We Toooooo Stupid!

It's December so the kids and I made our annual trek to the beach. I don't know why we can't be like normal folk and go in the summer. Other than the fact that I hate the crowds and the smell of sweat and suntan oil. So at 6:00 a.m. on the dot, Saturday morning, I was awakened by Sadie shouting from her bedroom, "When are we going to the beach?" I cursed myself many times over for ever mentioning the idea of an early morning jaunt to my child with a memory like an elephant on ginseng.

It was quite balmy when we left home. We even had some discussion of dabbling our feet in the surf. We sailed along in our Honda Odyssey, thinking ourselves quite the adventurers as we made our way to the coast. We ohhhed and ahhhhed over the quaint little coastal towns and when we pulled into the Guilford Yacht Club parking lot and saw the sun sparkling on the sea, we were beside ourselves with joy. No mind there wasn't another soul in site. We clambered out of the van and were hit by what can only be described as an Artic blast. I started to say something encouraging, but my teeth began to chatter and I was trying to remember what in God's name I was doing dragging my two six year olds out into the wee morning hours to a deserted parking lot in the middle of December. I ushered them onto a rock in front of the ocean so I could take a picture and then we all bolted back to the van.
We sat and admired the ocean from the comfort of our automobile. After some time, our teeth stopped chattering and we continued on our merry way to a local restaurant, which was really the purpose of our shoreline visit--to eat out for breakfast. I have to say I do love the simple, rustic architecture of beach shacks. And I get woozy from the smell of sun warmed, damp wood mixed with salty air.