Weather permitting, each year between Christmas and New Years we trek to the beach for a family camping trip ("we" meaning most of my extended family on my mom's side, and anyone else who wants to come along). We delight in a few sunny days, and usually tolerate a few rainy ones. This year's trip was marvelous.
My cousin and I were commenting on how we can't remember many Christmas presents we received through the years, although I'm sure there were many. We remember every beach trip though.
Running on the beach with my cousins.
Grandma and my little niece Pearl, whose mother did a much better job than I did keeping sand out of her swimsuit than I did when Logan was that age.
Skipping for more sand tools.
Uncle John with little boys.
Grandma and Grandpa who started this tradition 50 years ago.
Castle building.
One of my ironic parenting moments... Logan threw the football they were playing with deep in this large pokey bush to tease his cousin. Thinking I had devised an excellent natural consequence, I told him that he had to climb in and get it out. It took him quite some time and several scratches. After getting it out, he felt so pleased with himself, that he promptly threw the ball back in to show how awesome he was at getting the ball out of the bush.
Beach, we'll miss you.
Until next year...
2 comments:
What a fun tradition! Looks like the weather was nice for you too.
It was fun, I needed a beach every year all my life. I wonder if I lived by it if it would be anywhere near as fun as it is with everyone there. I love my little kids playing on the beach. I still have a part of me there.
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