ON A GLORIOUSLY uneventful Monday afternoon in August, a steady parade of boats slowly brings nine couples to the Grieve family boathouse on Georgian Bay’s Bone Island. The plan is simple: hang out with Geoff and Heather, catch up, snack, and sip well into the evening—while the kids do whatever kids do.
Some of these friendships go all the way back to kindergarten. Others are just a few summers old. From a conversation at work, Geoff and Dave found out they both live and play in the exact same places. Heather and Maggie became friends when they had babies around the same age—swapping parenting tricks helped make the summer more manageable. As the couples socialize, the low buzz of grown-up conversation mingles with a radio playing in the background. It is the postcard scene for summer living.
The quiet civility doesn’t last long. While the parents talk in the boathouse, a casually organized fleet of low-horsepower tinnies—piloted by and carrying kids—pulls one by one into the dock.
The young captains and crews, all tweens and early teens, do the docking dance, motioning to each other like an airport ground crew that’s swapped hi-viz for multicoloured PFDs. They man0euver into each spot with skill and care—those boathouse adults are probably paying attention. There’s excitement that fits the kids’ age, but an air of efficient responsibility that belies it.
They call themselves the GB Squad. After the boats are parked and secured, the PFDs tossed inside, the squad members say the obligatory hello to their parents and their guests. Then, as quickly as they stepped into the adult
