We live in Southern California, so of course we hardly ever go to the beach. There are a lot of beaches we never visit, all within an hour of us, some as close as 20 minutes. However, when our friends from San Diego came up for a visit this weekend (where they also rarely go to the beach that is 5 miles from their home), we all decided the beach was just the ticket for an outing. It was, after all, going to be nice and cool. Which, in SoCal, means it’s going to start off nice and cool in the morning and get all hot by the time you get anywhere.
In the interest of having the house to himself for a few hours, my husband was extremely helpful getting the children ready for our adventure. He dressed them (in long pants, because it was a cold day of course) and packed a lunch. Which turned out to be three apples, a handful of goldfish crackers, a baggie of swiss cheese and approximately two and a half pieces of turkey. For myself and three children. I grabbed some shorts for everyone just in case, and headed down to Hermosa Beach to meet up with our friends.
We keep sand toys and kites in the back of our van just in case the mood strikes us to visit the beach, as it has exactly three times in four years, so we were prepared. Our friends were already there and set up, their combined five children frolicking in the sand and surf. Lennon ran and joined them, Jack set himself up safely away from even accidently seeing the water, let alone touching it.
I pulled out the kites, knowing Jack wouldn’t go anywhere near the water. He is a kite-flying fool. Lennon, Kieran and I walked around the surf, collecting seashells and seaweed.
I found an awesome shell and gave it to Jack, who promptly put it down and lost it in his kite-flying fervor. Later, in the interest of finding another, he did it. He followed me down to the water.
Fingers shoved firmly in his ears, he pointed at shells with his elbows and had me pick them up to put in his pockets.
After watching the baby and Lennon laughing and darting away from the surging waves, Jack couldn’t resist it any longer. He dipped his toes in and shrieked with delight.
“I did it!! I touched the water all by myself!!!”
Every victory deserves a reward, so I promised them ice cream cones when we got home. After a long day of chasing children all over the beach in the hot sun (on a cool SoCal day) and driving almost an hour home, I needed a moment on the couch before embarking on the ice cream adventure (if you have a 4 1/2 year old, a 3 year old and a 17 month old, anything involving ice cream is an adventure). Jack wasn’t having it.
“Could you get off the couch and get our cones?”
“Baby, I need to relax. Just give me a second.” Jack looked at me for a moment, then held out his hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a second. I’m giving it to you. Could you get our ice cream cones now?”
Absolutely, baby. Absolutely.
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