Under the Sea
Despite the cloudy skies and cool temperatures, we decided to go hang out at the beach today. We had just bought a very awesome dragon kite at Costco (10 bucks!) and Hubba-hubba wanted to try his hand at kite flying.
So, we had to take the fairly long preparations that you need to take when you have a toddler at the beach. Cooler of food, towels, sandals, sunscreen, hats, neatsheet, sand toys, windbreakers, and luckily I thought to bring an extra change of clothing for Mr. Personality. (foreshadowing here, people, foreshadowing)
Finally we make it to Balboa Beach and commence playing with the shells, the sand, the driftwood, the balls, and of course, the kite. We had made a joint decision not to try to put Mr. Personality down for a nap in order to go to the beach, which resulted in a screaming, angry toddler demanding to hold the kite at all times by himself. This was a bad idea because the wind was very strong, and if he had held the thing by himself, he probably would have been dragged across the sand for a bit, assuming he could even keep hold of it for that long. But, overall, the dragon kite was a great success.
Mr. Personality had a thing about taking his shoes off today, and after about an hours worth of cajoling, I finally was able to take them off. "Go celebrate your no shoes and go play in the water with Dada!" I told him cheerily. Mr. Personality loves to "outrun" the waves as they come lapping up onto the shore, and he eagerly trotted with Hubba-hubba down closer to the water. I thought for a second that the water might be a little too cold, but I reassured myself that he would only be getting his feet wet. (More foreshadowing, aren't I good at it?)
The waves were pretty frisky, and had quite a bit of force hitting the beach. They hadn't been down there for all of five minutes when I see in slow motion Hubba-hubba and Mr. Personality trying to outrun a particularly strong wave. Then, (still in slo-mo) I see Mr. Personality break free of Hubba-hubba's handhold and consequently get his feet literally swept out from under him from a wave that came much faster than any of us had expected. Mr. Personality is flung facefirst into the water, and somehow managed to flip over, with the wave quickly receding and carrying him with it. You do not want to know the curse words that escaped my mouth when this occurred. Luckily, Hubba-hubba was right there and managed to pull him up out of the water.
If I had thought I had an angry, screaming toddler with the kite, it was nothing compared to the toddler that had just fallen and been soaked head to toe in cold seawater. He walked dazedly up the beach like a person stumbling out of bed after a particularly bad dream, arms held out beseechingly, screeching the entire way. He kept saying, "I went under the water, I went under the water." And we kept trying to convince him that he was so brave and such a good swimmer, but he was having none of it.
We managed to change him into new diaper and dry clothes, with his teeth chattering and the chanting of, "I went under the water." After a while, we were able to get him sort of close to the water in order to throw shells in it, but had an absolute refusal to outrun the waves again.
Actually, I don't blame him one bit for not wanting to have another go at it. But, if Hubba-hubba has created a child that will not enter the water for fear of going under, he is in charge of arranging and paying for the therapy bills.
So, we had to take the fairly long preparations that you need to take when you have a toddler at the beach. Cooler of food, towels, sandals, sunscreen, hats, neatsheet, sand toys, windbreakers, and luckily I thought to bring an extra change of clothing for Mr. Personality. (foreshadowing here, people, foreshadowing)
Finally we make it to Balboa Beach and commence playing with the shells, the sand, the driftwood, the balls, and of course, the kite. We had made a joint decision not to try to put Mr. Personality down for a nap in order to go to the beach, which resulted in a screaming, angry toddler demanding to hold the kite at all times by himself. This was a bad idea because the wind was very strong, and if he had held the thing by himself, he probably would have been dragged across the sand for a bit, assuming he could even keep hold of it for that long. But, overall, the dragon kite was a great success.
Mr. Personality had a thing about taking his shoes off today, and after about an hours worth of cajoling, I finally was able to take them off. "Go celebrate your no shoes and go play in the water with Dada!" I told him cheerily. Mr. Personality loves to "outrun" the waves as they come lapping up onto the shore, and he eagerly trotted with Hubba-hubba down closer to the water. I thought for a second that the water might be a little too cold, but I reassured myself that he would only be getting his feet wet. (More foreshadowing, aren't I good at it?)
The waves were pretty frisky, and had quite a bit of force hitting the beach. They hadn't been down there for all of five minutes when I see in slow motion Hubba-hubba and Mr. Personality trying to outrun a particularly strong wave. Then, (still in slo-mo) I see Mr. Personality break free of Hubba-hubba's handhold and consequently get his feet literally swept out from under him from a wave that came much faster than any of us had expected. Mr. Personality is flung facefirst into the water, and somehow managed to flip over, with the wave quickly receding and carrying him with it. You do not want to know the curse words that escaped my mouth when this occurred. Luckily, Hubba-hubba was right there and managed to pull him up out of the water.
If I had thought I had an angry, screaming toddler with the kite, it was nothing compared to the toddler that had just fallen and been soaked head to toe in cold seawater. He walked dazedly up the beach like a person stumbling out of bed after a particularly bad dream, arms held out beseechingly, screeching the entire way. He kept saying, "I went under the water, I went under the water." And we kept trying to convince him that he was so brave and such a good swimmer, but he was having none of it.
We managed to change him into new diaper and dry clothes, with his teeth chattering and the chanting of, "I went under the water." After a while, we were able to get him sort of close to the water in order to throw shells in it, but had an absolute refusal to outrun the waves again.
Actually, I don't blame him one bit for not wanting to have another go at it. But, if Hubba-hubba has created a child that will not enter the water for fear of going under, he is in charge of arranging and paying for the therapy bills.
Comments
Question: What's a neatsheet?
Suzanne