Yesterday afternoon went something like this:
Me: C’mon, guys, let’s turn off the Power Rangers movie and go to the beach. We’ll stop by the park on the way.
My Oldest: (with a dramatic groan) No, I just want to watch movies all day.
My Middle Child: (having just woken up after drifting off to sleep during the movie, he stares blankly at me and says nothing)
My Youngest: (with a wail) I don’t have my shell bucket!
Repeat the above exchange over and over for the next 37 minutes.
Finally, we all manage to make it to the beach, despite ourselves. As we head down the crossover to the beach, baby-girl leads, the oldest walks still begrudgingly, I’m in the middle, and the middle child and the middle-aged man I’m married to are clearly doing immature things behind me.
Then, the beach emerges from between the trees,
and there go the three small people, as predicted.
After a few minutes of running around and exploring, we discover these sand dollars beached at the edge of a small tidal pool. Casually finding sand dollars is one of the many perks of island living, in my book anyway.
We all stare at them for a while, trying to figure out if they are still alive. Given that they hadn’t turned white, we suspect that they are. Suddenly, my eldest launches into a stream of facts about sand dollars. We all turn and stare at him.
“What? I read, you know,†he responds, shrugs his shoulders slightly, and walks away.
LCB and I stare at each other for a second, and then start laughing. Even though he’s nine, we’re still getting over the fact that he’s somehow managed to acquire a life outside of us. We’re slow learners, unlike our son.
To get a closer look, LCB picks up one of the sand dollars. Sure enough, after a moment, the little hairs start moving. The other one does the same. We debate about what to do for a minute, suddenly struck by the lack of marine biologists in our lives. If we leave the sand dollars where they are, they could be crushed by a bike or a runner, or taken by a tourist who might assume they are dead. Hoping to increase their odds of survival, LCB picks up both the sand dollars and tosses them as far out into the ocean as he can.
We stay for a while longer, talking to some people we meet on the beach. The sun sets, and the small people begin to get hungry and, as usual, are wet despite their original intent to stay dry. Everyone grabs their shoes, and we start the trek away from the beach, the remnants of pink still in the sky.
I can’t help it. I am the last to leave.
The light is so beautiful toward the end of the day!! I guess… you have a great and adventurous playground for your kids right in front of you! Endless ocean, endless possibilities for discoveries and enjoyment.
It is a wonderful place to grow up. I wish that I had had a “yard” that large to explore as a kid.
Beautiful place to play!
For the adults, too! 🙂
The “What? I read, you know!” comment from your eldest made me laugh out loud. My boys were fascinated to see a picture of a live sand dollar. We all kind of assumed that they just washed up on the beach in our accustomed view of them–blindingly white and pristine. I guess that comes with our serious absence of sand dollars in the Great Lakes. Now zebra mussels and other invasive species, we know!
I thought the same thing about sand dollars, until I moved here. Zebra mussels?? I think those are new to me!
Amazing what happens when you turn off the TV. Your family sounds a bit like mine. What a privelige to live in a coastal environment…….
Coming to you from the Northern Beaches of Sydney Australia
Sydney beaches, wow. That means you have quite the playground yourself! I’d love to spend some time in your neck of the woods. We were planning a trip there years ago, actually, and then I got pregnant, and since that pregnancy and two others, international travel has gone mostly by the wayside.
But yes, I still can’t believe how fortunate we are to be living here. Great to hear from you!