Yesterday Jack and I were going through our usual morning routine -- which these days involves him sleeping much later than I know what to do with. I mean, I used to do little "please let Jack sleep later" dances each night before going to bed. If we were lucky he would sleep until 5 am. Fairly recently he started consistently sleeping until about 6 or 6:30 am. We celebrated. Then he would have a random morning here or there in which he slept until 7 am or even (gasp!) 7:15 am. Then suddenly last week he started sleeping until past 8 am and now I am just beside myself. Don't get me wrong-- it is nice. But it also means that it is quite easy to let a whole morning pass now without really doing much of anything. Yes, we do move that slowly. But I am rambling -- getting back to yesterday.
Yesterday, about mid-morning, I was checking one of my favorite blogs -- soulemama.com -- and there was a simple video post there of a beach. More specifically it was the author of the blog holding a camcorder as she walked from her blanket to the water and put her feet into the water. It was very simple. Jack took an interest in it and then proceeded to ask me to play it again and again and again. At some point I said to myself, "For goodness sake, mama, take this boy to the beach." And so I did.
I should mention here that we live fairly close to the beach -- about a thirty minute drive without traffic ( I love how we people here in LA say things like that as if there is ever not any traffic). But I never go. Which means Jack rarely goes. I am not much of a beach person. I like the sound and look of the water but the sun and the sand I could sort of do without. I am definitely more of a mountain, tree, river kind of gal. But I do not want to rob my son of one of the most readily available bits of nature/landscape here in our hometown. So off we went.
Because of some traffic (told you) and one stop I needed to make, we were in the car for over an hour getting there. Jack was as happy and pleasant as could be. It was sort of a nippy, windy day on the beach but we had a good time. Jack was timid of the water, which surprised me. He spent most of his time playing in the sand and then later trying to win over two little girls -- who were four and five years old and not interested in younger men -- to no avail.
Jack and mama at the beach . . .
When we got in the car three hours later to come home, I thought surely he would fall asleep and fall asleep hard. He had skipped his regular naptime and had been out in the sun and wind for three hours. I know I was tired. But we hit traffic immediately and moved at a crawl's pace pretty much all the way home. He almost fell asleep a few times but then a second wind hit him and he spent the next hour and a half talking away to me about everything he was seeing on the freeway. Oh wait, he spent the last thirty minutes listening to "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" and singing along loudly. (Considering that song's runtime is probably right around one minute or less, it is safe to assume that we listened to that song at least thirty times.) When we finally arrived home, he caught sight of his "motorcycle" as he calls it -- a sort of Big Wheels meets Tricycle meets Push Toy ( the push part comes off once he is big enough to pedal and steer himself.)
Then he made some street art with his chalk . . . I am pretty sure most of it ended up somewhere other than the street. . .
And not to call it a day just yet, he decided to pull one of his signature breakaway acts that he has perfected in the last few weeks. It goes like this. He knows he is not supposed to leave wherever we are -- i.e. his bedroom at bedtime, the spot where I am standing looking for something in a store, the back parking area where I was standing with him in the pictures above, etc. He starts by casually turning to scope it out . . .
Then he turns back to me with a very serious face and keeps his eyes on mine as he starts to inch his feet in the direction he wants to go . . .
. . . eyes still on me and he's still shuffling his little feet as if I cannot see them . . .
. . . then when he gets what he must consider a safe distance away, he gives me a big Jack smile . . .
. . . and makes a run for it . . .
I must admit it is cute.
The fun continued . . .
. . . until finally he parked his motorcycle in its spot and we headed upstairs for a quick shower together and an impromptu dinner of eggs, toast and avocado. Then it was off to bed for a tired little man (who was still full of energy).
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