It is the last day of September and I think I just now finally captured the final few surviving grains of sand that have been ever haunting my floors since our beach trip at the end of August.
Funny how there is still a beach, because I was pretty sure we brought it all home with us.
Sand in their fingers, sand in their toes, sand in their cracks and sand up their nose.
Our last vacation of the season was so much fun. The older kids have grown sufficient enough brain to manage themselves at the beach. They don't go out too far if the current is strong. If a wave topples them upside down they are of sound mind to know how to stand back up. They had an independent blast and enjoyed having grandma join us.
Eliza, on the other hand, would be carried off to western Africa if we let her.
Bridger has made great progress from his early years of vomiting if a grain of sand touched him. Sand = beach, which consequently = lots of vomit as I would try to keep seaside family vacations happening. Now he tolerates sand everywhere and his signature sand trail he makes bum scooting from our umbrella to the surf leaves sand trapped in every possible crack he has.
Have I mentioned how much we love our beach wheelchair?!
The one who was doubting the fun in this whole beach thing was Ty. Watching him walk on sand made us all double over in laughter. He made it look challenging, like each step he was placing a precarious paw on a balance beam. It was quite a sight watching the big tough service dog tiptoeing through the sand.
He adjusted to it after the second day and found his dutiful place playing with Bridger. While Alan was playing in the waves with the other kids, Bridger was playing in the safety of the shade building sand hills that Ty would promptly destroy on command -- repeated over and over. Then Bridger would bury something and Ty would dig to uncover it -- repeated over and over.
The sensory elements each outing become overwhelming to Bridger after an hour so he assumes his signature position with me holding him in my beach chair, head on a towel wedged into my elbow, cool damp washcloth over his eyes, legs propped on the armrest and me pressing my finger into his ear to block out all auditory input. And there I sit for an hour while he shuts down and my arm sends shockwaves of burning muscle up my body holding that precarious position with an 80 pound weight.
It is bliss. Except for that dead arm part.
The fun doesn't end when the sun goes down. Night swimming is one of the kids favorite things to do and I love that it acts as a preliminary filter to get the sand out of the cracks.
In the evenings, after we were all de-sanded for the night, we get sandy one more time and go hunt for crabs by flashlight. Besides the sand that we carried into our condo each night, the other half of the beach went up Ty's nose. We took off his work vest after Bridger was in bed and discovered that Ty is an expert crab hunter! Nevermind the annoyance of snorting up the sand, he thought this was the best job ever! Every hair of his tail was on point as he chased down the trails of the crabs and found every one.
As all good things must come to an end, this was our farewell to summer. We had our annual ice cream for dinner to bid adieu to flip flops, shorts, sunscreen and lazy days until next year.
