Kita and I wait for the rush hour to pass...I'll pause so you can chuckle and shake your head at our naive optimism...and then we pack our kids up, switch on the Garmin (well, I switch on the Garmin and she follows me best she can through the freeways), and head out.
Last week we were ever so blind-leading-the-blind, messing up our parking permits and desperately searching for a bathroom. Garmin took us to the 2-hour parking lot, which requires taking note of your parking space and then popping coins into a machine, pressing buttons to get the correct amount of time on your ticket and then going back to your car to put the ticket on your dashboard. Please. With four kids and all the accouterments they require for a trip to the beach, we're lucky to have even stepped foot on the beach at all with the time allotted to us.
And speaking of the beach, the little ones have dubbed it "the desert walk" because it's about a quarter mile from the second you step onto the sand to when you get to the hard-packed sand-castle worthy sand. I just go ahead and count the walk to and from the water, Ethan and three bags in hand, as my workout for the day when we go. It seems fair.
The water feels like home to me. I grew up in the Frozen North (as described by Honduran Husband), otherwise known as New Hampshire and the beach water up there is tough to handle anytime before August. The water here is very similar and I can say with certainty that when Husband goes to the beach with us, I will be the one jumping waves with Ethan while Husband sits on the blanket, shaking his head at his "polar bears". Ethan and I love the cold water. We spent a lot of time jumping in the waves. He is definitely my son (as if there was any question of that?)
So here are some pictures of the little man and his friends, Evie, Lucy and Nonie, adapting to live as beach bums quite nicely...
For those of you in the "OMGah, he looks just like his father did at that age...." camp; here you go. Yes, I know. It's as though I gave the child none of my own genes at all. My pregnancy was all a sham; Ethan sprung, Athena-like, from Husband's forehead.
Taking "here's mud in yer eye" literally...