This morning, the kids and I woke up early and went down to the beach right away. I brought my laptop down and sat on the cushioned loungers with the sun shades to work on this blog, while the kids played in the surf. It was extremely windy and the red flags in front of the condo were flying, signaling hazardous surf in the form of rip tides and undertows. With the promise to be sensible (or “sensibly unsensible,” as they put it), the boys went in anyway. The water is so cold, I don’t see how they can do it, but I guess it’s because they’re kids. The surf was wild, with waves far bigger than the kids. You wouldn’t know it was the Gulf—at least not the placid summer Gulf I’m used to seeing. Although thinking back to childhood, I do remember a more vigorous springtime Gulf.
After awhile, we moved to the pool, then back upstairs for breakfast. And so went the week--lots of beach.
One day, we went back for plastic shovels, so the boys could dig a giant hole. (And as an air guitar prop, apparently.)
Digging is serious business, as you can see:
The rest of the week, it was pretty much all about the beach.
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