The One with the afternoon at the beach.

Yesterday afternoon, I talked Keith into taking the little lady and me to the beach. I lathered my baby, who happens to be the palest child around, in sunblock while Keith got the umbrella and towels together. (*I also grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge to take, but I stopped short after taking a big swig. It tasted strange. Of course, I convinced Keith to taste it, and he agreed that it was weird, almost minty. Then he remembered that he had spit out his gum in one of his empty water bottles the other day. He couldn't remember that BEFORE he refilled it and put it in the refrigerator?? Disgusting.)

By the time we got to the beach, parked and found a parking meter that actually worked, I had enough cash to allow us about 45 minutes at the beach. This was fine with us because dinner time would be fast approaching. I plopped the little lady down in the sand, and much to my delight, she loved it. She has loved the beach every time we go, but I always half expect her to just hate it one day. For the first 30 minutes, she didn't move around very much. She would try to wipe the sand off her hands, then she'd throw it, she'd lean waaaaaay over to grab a toy, and of course she tried to taste it. She eventually started crawling around in it, just in time for our meter to be up.