Aaron, our most independent child, quite possibly had the best time of everyone at the beach. He loved the freedom to roam anywhere his heart desired. (Except, you know, into the ocean. I think he would have kept going and going and going had we not kept stopping him. He'd get bowled over by a wave, tumble through the small whitecaps, stand up, smile and charge into them again.) He loved the freedom to dig and play in the sand, get dirty and not be told to stop.
And, he LOVED his Daddy pulling him on the boogie board in the surf.
And, he LOVED his Daddy pulling him on the boogie board in the surf.
He got mad when he wasn't allowed to take shovels or buckets or toys from his little sister
and decided laying in the sand was a good protest.
He wore the same, "my parents are exhausted" shirt just about everyday to protect his fair skin from the blaring rays of the sun and to also let everyone know the true state of mine and Luke's energy level.
He got his beach bucket filled with Atlantic salt water 5,739 times and followed his Daddy out for a fresh helping almost every time.
And, in turn, led Daddy back to his desired location an equal amount of times.
He helped dig holes and make sand castles and fill buckets of salty water with sand. He played hard, slept soundly, awoke early and probably had the most fun of his entire 2 years of life.
And we loved seeing the beach and ocean, waves and birds, boats and adventures through his 2 year old eyes. He keeps asking when we could go back to the "beek." Buddy, if it were up to me, we'd go back tomorrow.