I am sad that summer is fading to a close. But excited too because now that the pool is closed we can go back to our favorite park (parking is for town residents only as long as the pool is open). We made a quick trip yesterday afternoon and went back this morning for a slightly longer visit.
After she’d had a good run through the playground and trying out a couple different swings, the wide, wide ocean caught Isabella’s eye. She ran cross country, toward the blue, blue water and I was forced to follow, leaving the stroller behind. She was quite distressed when she got there to find only a tumble of impassable rocks. I had to scoop her up and carry her, screaming, back to our abandoned stroller.
To make it up to her, I pushed her back along the path and down to the small sandy beach. There I put her down and let her run. She made a break for the water and was ankle deep before I could catch her. Then she waded out a little further and I lamented my lack of foresight in not at least removing her shoes and perhaps her clothes as well. Fortunately the beach has a very gentle slope there and there is no surf to speak of in the sheltered harbor, just the sort of lapping waves you get at the lake. I was able to rush to the water’s edge before she got in to her knees. Then, of course, she sat down and was soaked to the armpits.
Then I was stuck. I could either pick up my soaking wet toddler and get soaked myself or I could let her make her own way up the beach. I opted for the latter; but, naturally, she fell and got caked in sand.
Once we got a little way from the beach I stopped on the soft grass to pull off her wet clothes and change her soaked diaper. She ate some handfuls of Cheerios, not minding the sand at all, and chased a couple of dogs. I had no change of clothes in the diaper bag, having forgotten to replace the spares last time we went to the beach and had to use them when we’d forgotten the bathing suit.
So there I was pushing her through the park while she was dressed in only a diaper.
I was planning to pop her in the tub when we got home; but it was too close to nap time and she fell asleep. I guess I’ll have to change the sheets after she gets up.
And of course our landlord was there when I got to the house, talking with a contractor about fixing our basement door. So I had to stop to talk to him with my arms full of sandy, sleeping baby.
You can handle these little bumps in the road in two ways: get all stressed and upset, or shrug and laugh, recognizing that at least the child is having fun. I pull out the camera and snap pictures so I can illustrate my blog post. I’d guess that puts me firmly in the latter category.