In the interest of full disclosure, let me just go ahead and admit that the only reason for this entire post is that I wanted an excuse to post this picture:
Oh, how my old click-and-shoot camera sucked. But! But! A baby sleeping on the beach will always overcome camera inadequacies. Also, ::sigh::
Anyway, that photo was taken in April of 2007, back when Alexis was just one-year old. It's a deceiving photo that seems to tell the story of a content baby, but it's LIES. ALL LIES. Alexis' first encounter with the beach was a happy one for all of 13.4 seconds. I managed to snap this:
It is the exact moment when Alexis' face began to transform from an expression of "I might be OK with this sand stuff" to "OMG! WTF? WHAT IS THIS CRAP? WHY IS IT ON ME? I'M DYYYYYYYYYYYYYING! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" A millisecond after that photo, the kid completely lost her mind. Anyone watching might have thought we dumped battery acid on her head while kicking Dora in the face and throwing Boots out in the ocean with a brick tied to his foot.
Once she had thoroughly shattered every ear drum within a 3-mile radius, she fell asleep. And that was the extent of her experience with the beach.
Pure loathing.
Fast forward almost four years. I had the bright idea that it was time to stop letting the kid keep me from the beach. I wanted to sit around and do nothing for a while, dammit, and if she wanted to scream the entire time, so what? I'm immune to her screaming at this point. IMMUNE, I SAY.
So we planned an afternoon at the beach while we were in Florida. I had talked up the ocean and the beach as if they were some sort of life-saving chemical that tasted like crap. It's fun! It's exciting! It's super-special! You'll love it! It's good for you! EAT THE LIFE-SAVING CHEMICAL, KID.
Things started out on the right foot.
And by the "right foot," I mean she refused to take off her water shoes, but oh well. Heaven help us all if that kid ever gets a speck of dirt on her toes. She might just melt.
The kid and her magic shoes managed to have some fun in the water.
Of course, it was all a sham. A SHAM, I TELL YOU.
I don't know how it started, I just know the sham started to unravel a few moments later. SOMEONE got a little itsy bitsy tiny little drop of sea water in her mouth. SOMEONE thought that sea water tasted like donkey ass dipped in sludgy milk. SOMEONE flipped her lid.
I have five years of training in the art of unflipping her lid, so I talked her down from the ledge in a matter of minutes. It was almost impressive how she went from this:
To this:
And then back to this:
VICTORY!
Except . . . what's up with the chipmunk cheeks? She wasn't storing nuts for winter. She wasn't rinsing her mouth out with mouthwash. No, she was trying to create a waterproof seal with her lips because OMG! The ocean was making her puke!
Alexis swore up and down and left and right that if any ocean water got in her mouth, she would puke. It wouldn't be her fault. Nope, the ocean would be to blame.
Hey, so, remember how my kid has that really awesome puking skill? You know, the one where can make herself vomit on command, just by thinking about it?
Dear people who were at Cocoa Beach the same day as us,
I'm really sorry about the chunks in the water. I tried to stop her. I swear I did.
Sincerely,
The Lady Who Is Going To Spend a Day Relaxing At The Beach Even If It Kills Her