They swore they would only get their ankles wet.
[Note: Web gremlins threw a raging party on the servers where I host my little corner of the web and left things quite a mess. Now ask anyone with little kids, or just look at my lawn, squeaky screen door or busted bathroom ran, things don’t get fixed quickly with kids around. Just making it to 8 pm with your sanity is an accomplishment. So it took a month, but I’m back. Be prepared for a flood of hyperbole, sarcasm and cuteness in the next week until I catch up. On this blog it’s just a week or so after July 4th. Let’s say the 10th.]
The girls (and Dash) spent a solid five days around the fourth of July tiring out and terrorizing the grandparents at the beach house. Despite the amount of obsessive aftermath sweeping by Pop Pop (and obsessive pre-storm weather channel watching by GG), I don’t think many of the adults minded the forced respite that the dear old tropical storm (I did feel like an old friend by the time it arrived) forced on us. We actually made it through most of the day dry, but nightfall brought rain, a loss of power and lots of wind, but it was mostly sunny again by noon the following day and I’m not sure the girls even noticed. Sometimes I envy Ally’s three-second attention span.
For better and worse, Ally is much more independent this year. On the plus side: she sleeps through the night, she’s almost potty trained, she doesn’t think sand is a delicacy, she plays with her sister. On the negative side: she’ll wade into the water up to her neck without a care, she has an irrational fear of dark colored sand, she believes obsessively getting in and out of the pool is a delightful game. Still, the positives far outweigh the negatives. One afternoon, sitting in a beach chair, I watched the girls play together making a sand castle near the water’s
edge and had two sips of a beer. But soon, maybe next summer, I can envision having an entire beer before having to get out my chair to mitigate a dire shovel dispute or pull a hermit crab out of Allison’s mouth. The dream is so close.
When the tide goes out in the tidal flats on the bay side of Cape Cod, it really goes out. Like Cecilia backpedaling from an afternoon nap, the water seemingly recedes backward over the horizon for miles (that’s only a small exaggeration). Walking out on the exposed sandbars early in the morning can often make you feel like an apocalypse survivor. Just you and the horseshoe crabs. All that empty space is heaven for a toddler with energy to burn.
See for yourself.