A certain 6-year old whose name rhymes with "liar-lexis" has taken to begging to go to the beach. We've done the beach thing with her. We know better than to drive any sort of distance whatsoever just so we can see this face:
OK, wrong photo. I have one somewhere of her screaming her head off because sand had the audacity to touch her toe, but I got distracted by sleeping baby Alexis. And then I got distracted by this:
Which is pretty much the same face we've seen every single time the kid has been anywhere near a beach, except that there's more screaming and head spinning involved. I wrote about her absolute loathing of all things beachy last year when we tried to spend ten minutes at Cocoa Beach.
I'm not spending hours in a car just so the kid can take one look at the ocean and then go into a brain-melting fit of misery and loathing before delivering a floating pile of vomit.
But! But! I vaguely remembered that there was a tiny little pseudo beach at Racoon Creek State Park.
Good enough.
******************************************************************
As we pulled up to the tiny little pseudo beach, I predicted a short stay. I left my iced coffee in the car, knowing that I would be returning to it momentarily, even as Alexis started bouncing up and down with excitement. Water! Sand! All of the things she hates!
She didn't acknowledge her thoughts on all things beachy as she threw off her t-shirt and got ready to wade into the lake. I went ahead of her, silently squicking out because lake water is one of those things that I irrationally find completely gross. It's filled with fish poop, you know.
As I turned to see if I was going to have to bribe Alexis to at least give the water a try, I realized she had wandered further down the beach.
"Would you like to play?" she asked a little girl just a bit younger than her.
One day I blinked and the kid went from terribly shy to better in social situations than I am. I don't know how that happened, but I'm glad it did.
I watched from afar as Alexis and her new friend took off into the water, splashing and laughing and swimming and generally having a great time. An instant connection was made. It was that sort of careless friendship that only young kids engage in. They don't think about What Comes Next because they haven't been hurt by Next just yet.
I settled into a spot on the sand and watched, doing nothing. It was every bit as blissful as I've always dreamed it would be.
******************************************************************
Bliss was disrupted by a little girl with a crown of wild blond curls. She sat atop an inner tube, purposely paddling her way towards Alexis and her most recent BFF.
"I don't think I like you very much," she proclaimed once she was close enough for them to hear her.
Social awkwardness starts early. Apparently.
I waited to see how Alexis would handle the situation, all the while preparing myself to intervene. It seemed like the opening dialogue to an after-school special about bullying. I wasn't going to wait long to find out if I was right.
Alexis' most recent BFF was the first to speak up. "I think we're nice."
Alexis chimed in, "You can play with us if you want, but you have to be nice, too."
There is hope for the next generation.
The girl with the crown of blond curls retorted, "I am nice. You are the ones who aren't."
Alexis and her most recent BFF wisely decided to walk away. They turned on their heels in a huff before storming up to me and reporting what had been said.
"Well, are you being nice?" I asked them.
"Yes!" they replied in unison.
"Then that's all you can do," I replied. "Go have some more fun over there." I directed them towards a new part of the water, far away from the girl with the crown of blond curls.
And that's what they did. They went and had more fun.
On a beach.
Without complaining.
Without puking.
Without anyone's brain melting.
Whowouldathunkit?
