Just Beachy

So, we spent all last week at the beach. And it was fun. And there's not much more to be said, really, because really, when you're at the beach, pretty much all that happens is that you get wet. And then you dry off, and put on dry clothes, and then five minutes later your kids want to go back to the beach, or the pool, so you change into your suits again, and put on more sunscreen, and go get wet again, and if you repeat that cycle about forty times, well, that was our week. It was fun, and wet, and I didn't take many pictures, because, well, we were always wet.

Like this:

Here Phoebe is saying, Mommy, why are you taking our picture now, when we could be getting wet again?

Here is Mallory thinking that she might sleep in the big bathtub for the night:

It didn't take her too long to change her mind.

I should mention that last summer, Mallory refused to go underwater under any circumstances; she's gotten over that, thankfully, and this summer has actually swum. (She has no technique, but she can get from one end of the pool to the other. And she can tread water like no one's business.) She also finally drummed up the courage to jump into the pool from the side, or the diving board, and moved on to making up crazy names for her jumps -- "I'm doing the graham cracker!" she'll yell, before plunging in with her legs at a weird angle, or, "I'm doing the vanilla split!" She even cavorted and dove around in the ocean waves. I'm proud of her for getting over her fears. Now if we can just get her on a bicycle, we'll be in business.

Strangely, though, when asked what her favorite part of vacation was, Mallory said it was playing miniature golf. We did take her one afternoon -- it was "Hawaiian Rumble Golf," one of the five million courses, apparently, in Myrtle Beach. I thought it was a pretty boring putt-putt course, myself; there were no windmills or secret passageways of the sort I remember from my youth. My family always played putt-putt on vacation, I told Chris, leading him to ask why I wasn't any better at it. It's true I'm no good; I tend to either sink it in 2, or fail to get in under the 5-stroke maximum, but I have enough of my father in me that I kept berating Mallory to line up her feet and to grip the club right, for heaven's sake. She actually got a hole-in-one, somehow, and then requested that we buy her a trophy.

Anyway, that was our vacation. Now we just have two more weeks before school starts. What happened to the summer?


aimee said...

Aww, putt-putt. Love the game. Hate when I lose. Which is often. How come we aren't better at it? We played it enough.

Sounds like you had a great time. Glad you had fun.