“Beach baby, beach baby, there on the sand…”

So, when I was little, every summer we packed up my parents’ little unassuming Honda hatchback and my grandparents’ gargantuan, couch-on-wheels tank of a maroon Dodge Dart and headed down to Cherry Grove for a week.  Having a child’s distorted sense of time passage, this trip took approximately seven years.  Actual time: four hours.  Eventually, we’d get close enough to roll down the windows and smell the ocean.  Soon after that, I could see bits and pieces of the blue water peeking out from between the beachfront houses.

We spent the week swimming in the ocean, building sand castles, whooshing down the waterslides, kicking skeeball’s butt at the arcade, coming in at +56 at the putt-putt course and sleeping like the dead.  Our rent-a-house was never centrally air-conditioned and a hermit crab once savagely attacked my little sister, but we had my grandmother’s super-yummy potato salad and the humming window units became part of the soundtrack of my childhood.

Sigh.

I hope we can give Evie memories like these of her childhood.  They are absolutely priceless.

We gave it an honest try last week.  Check it out…

So this is the ocean

“Hmm.  So this is the ocean.  Well, I can swim in that, no problem.”

Staying hydrated

“It is important to stay hydrated while frolicking in the sun.  Also, water bottles are hella crinkly and fun.  Also, this chair only fits me.  Evie.  That rocks.”

Uncle Eddie and Pop

Two of the men whom Evie has fastened securely in her clutches, Uncle Eddie and Pop.

Pool

Evie, honey, I love you so much, sweetie-pie.  Would it kill you to smile for a picture once in while?  You don’t have to figure everythingout right away, you know.  Whatever.  You’re your father’s child.  (Maybe, as the only kid in the pool submerged in a quasi-ladybug-shaped, canopied floatation device, you feel stupid.  Noted.)

Poop face

Grandparents just glow, don’t they?  Also, hilariously, the baby’s facial expression vaguely foretells of poop.

Catalog

Oh, Evie.  Love you, little chica.

Extra-added bonus:  Fourth of July pics!  Last year, a two-month-old, very disoriented and startled Evie woke up in the middle of a room of strangers and vowed never to joyfully celebrate another holiday again.  Unrelatedly, she started the neverending droolfest that continues to this day on that night.

Anyway, Evie has rescinded her vow and actually likes our nation’s birthday now.  Love it or leave it, baby!

Beach Baby

“Oh, really, Mother.  Fireworks are not at all scary and there is NOT a snake lurking on the patio.  Come outside and enjoy this moment, dammit!”

Budding artist

“Yes.  Call the art museum.  No, seriously.  I haven’t seen anything better than this hanging there.”

That face

Honestly, could you refuse this face anything?  No.  No, you could not.

Next year will be even better.  And the year after that, and so on.  But I will still not swim in the ocean, I don’t care.  Y’all can have it.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on ““Beach baby, beach baby, there on the sand…”

  1. This was the best beach trip by far! All we need is Alice, Jacob and Sara and here comes perfection!! She is the most precious thing that ever lived!!!

    OH, Daddy your legs were that skinny at 35 too, I am sure!

  2. You are right Auntie M Pop’s legs were that skinny at 35!!! Actually he has always had nice legs.
    What wonderful pictures of Evie’s first beach trip. Katie, I am so pleased you remember your annual beach trips with such carity and fondness. We always tried to make those trips a lot of fun for you girls. The big house we rented only had one window unit but when we were there, we never used it. The house had a constant breeze. Do you remember the showers downstairs?? And if we lost the electricity due to a storm, it would take hours to get it back. Ask your Daddy about singing hymns on the front porch one night trying to sing the lights back on.
    No more ocean swimming for you?? I remember you dipping and diving in the big waves at Kure Beach when we stayed in the crack house.
    Make sure you notify the Guggenheim to save a space for Eve Langston.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s