Thursday, January 27, 2011

King of the Beach

Lily needed some time to work on her taxes, so I took the kids to the beach in beautiful Santa Monica, California. Got them all sunscreened up, grabbed the beach bag full of sand toys, and threw on my beach shoes - some ratty old Puma slip-ons that could pass for homeless person shoes but are perfect for the beach. Juggled the kiddies out the door and into the Passat and away we went.

Funny thing about a two year old kid is that she's old enough to walk, and she's small enough to carry, but she's getting too heavy to carry. And the little girl was not about to walk the length of the beach to get to the water. So I gather her up in my left arm while carrying the beach bag of sand toys and our lunch in the other. Luckily the boy is old enough now to carry some of the gear.

We lounged around a bit digging with the shovels and buckets. We played a little frisbee and threw the football around. We went down to the water and played the "run away from the water" game, and in doing so we managed to scoop up a live hermit crab. After all the excitement, we ate some lunch and by then it was almost nap time. Time to pack everything up and get back into the car.

Nobody wants to wear shoes once their feet have been in the water. And that included all three of us. So I threw our shoes on top of the sand toys in the beach bag. As we plodded our way through the sand toward the car, a chicken wing bone flew threw the air and landed on the sand in front of us near a garbage barrel. I looked to my right and saw a sporty guy standing amongst his reclining friends, and he was holding a chicken wing. He said "I didn't do it". I said "Busted. You're holding a chicken wing." We kept on walking, and I heard him yell in our direction "I put it in the trash!" I turned and yelled "I'm not the beach police."

After making it to the car in our allotted two hours parking I loaded the kids into their seats, and the gear into the trunk of the wagon. A car pulled up and waited for our spot. I dug through the bag and found only one of my shoes. I dug around some more. I looked in the front and rear seats. But I knew the shoe was on the beach. I yelled "I lost my shoe" to the lady waiting for our spot. She gave me a smile and moved on in her parking search. I sprinted back toward the beach.

I scanned our path as I ran along the beach. I spotted the shoe up ahead in the middle of a group of guys throwing a football around. And one of the guys was the chicken wing guy. One of them overthrew the football, and as one went to get it, another picked up the shoe and threw it at somebody else. It landed on the ground. I probably wouldn't want to catch that shoe either. I yelled "That's my shoe!" The guy who threw it said "sorry dude" as I picked it up and ran back toward the car. I turned and yelled "But that was a solid throw." Better than the chicken wing throw for sure.

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