I wish I had thought ahead. But I guess that’s the point of an impromptu trip to the beach. I’ve been parenting for over a decade and still I thought that they would just go up to their knees in the ocean. Funny, funny thoughts. At least I remembered changes of clothing.
I didn’t seem to remember I was bringing a three year old boy to the beach. And that he would charge headfirst into the ocean. The first wave wasn’t big enough for his liking, so he promptly sat down in the tide. And as it drifted back, he rolled around in the wet sand. For good measure.
Cinco was quite smitten as well. That is until she discovered that she wasn’t in control of the ocean. She was personally offended that the water determined to come to her, rather than wait for her to come to it. She scolded it quite firmly. She also was annoyed by seagulls’ tendency to take off as you approach them. But running around on the beach was quite enjoyable for her.
Mac tends to be a more cautious child. Except when in the ocean. He quickly decided that the water was awesome and that he should go all in. Seriously, all in. And he was happy to report to us about all the “gross slimy” sea weed and jelly fish carcasses he encountered. I also learned my voice does not carry over the roar of the waves.
After X-Man was good and soaking, and had immersed himself in the pits of sand his sisters’ dug, it was time to go back. This meant a trek across a large dry sand patch. Cinco kept yelling at her older sisters. She was tired of walking along side me and wanted to walk with them. But they were walking too fast, which resulted in a lecture from Cinco. The child runs the whole family.
We rinsed the sand off, but X-Man needed a fuller treatment. He was stripped down to his underwear, which prompted Mac to ask “Isn’t that not polite? Or at least very embarrassing?” I hissed at him to keep quiet as we headed back to the car, X-Man strutted his stuff while clad only in his superhero tighty whities.
The trip took longer than it should have. Mostly because X-Man kept collecting rocks and stuffing them in his underwear. Rather than risk a scene, I humored him and continued our stroll. With a three year old. With rocks in his underwear. Providing entertainment to those following us.
Like our family routinely does.