We hit a milestone this year at the beach...both kids tolerated the surf and the sand. I know this is not the first time I have commented on my inability to comprehend how some families can stay on the beach for 6, 8 and 10 hours at a time. I hear stories of sandy sandwiches and sunny naps and bronzed children who won't get out of the waves and I remember my own childhood and am sure that we were just like that, that I climbed on a raft at dawn and drifted until the sun set. I do not know if there is some revisionist history going on or if we really did spend hours on end at the beach, but I do know that there was a point last summer when I decided that I would never have that experience with my kids, that they were simply not 'beach' people.
Until this most recent trip, our visits to the actual beach were somewhat brief, always involved whining and begging for the pool, and occasionally ended (and sometimes began) with tears. Not this time. Nope. James decided that the sand was cool and was even amused by the salt water and Luz decided that she loved building sandcastles, riding waves and collecting seashells. Sure, there were a few touch and go moments when James needed a nap and, yeah, we were not out there for hours on end...but our stamina has improved, thankfully. Who knows...next year we might officially have kids who are 'beach' people.
Cleaning her shells:
Working on her sandcastle (that's another thing...where do these people learn to build such incredible sandcastles...mine are always pathetic in comparison):
Watching Luz and the water:
With Mama (I was there too, see):