Being a northerner in the South in March, seventy degrees was warm enough to head to the beach. So
we my wife packed our beach bag with all the necessary supplies and some sandwiches before we headed toward the Atlantic.
Shorts and t-shirts were the uniform of choice because we knew the water would be very freaking cold. For those of you wondering, I did not sport the aquamarine thong aforementioned in Seems Like a Good Time for a Vacation.
The kids immediately threw themselves into the sand and started digging. After a few minutes we gave them the shovels and pails because their little fingers weren’t quite doing the job of getting the sand high enough to catch a breeze and land on one of our soon-to-be-sandy neighbors.
The surf enticed us enough to get our feet wet. Did I mention that it was freaking cold? That was an understatement; I had an ice cream headache in my feet. The worst part was that my daughter couldn’t get enough of playing in the six-inch deep water, so much that I might have to refer to her as the ice princess from now on. Relief came when the waves receded back into the ocean for a period of a few seconds once in a great while.
My wife was the smart one, like usual, by hanging with my son because he only dipped his toes in for about a minute and then decided that the dry sand was more fun.
The lunch bell rang just in the nick of time because hypothermia had started to set in. My wife and I feasted on ham sandwiches while the kids nibbled on their favorite lunchtime meal, jelly and peanut butter on wheat.
Kids in general are curious beasts that are easily distracted and so am I, so being at the beach for the first time in quite a while was too much for my son to expect him to sit calmly on the blanket and eat his sandwich. My attempt to confiscate his sandwich failed when he darted from the blanket that we stripped off of the extra bed in our daughter’s room. The sandwich seemed to hover just high enough above the sand for about a minute or so in between bites, but eventually was submerged completely when the boy lost his balance. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but jelly and peanut butter is very sticky. When the thing formerly known as a sandwich surfaced it was unrecognizable, but, of course, this didn’t stop him from taking a bite. Yum!
We played for a little while after our delicious lunch, but the other Sandman came calling and said it was naptime and the kids were tired, too. We packed eveything up, including some seashells that we found at the seashore and discussed who would change the boy’s sandy diaper. I won the argument and changed the diaper on my wife’s seat in the car.
No comments yet.