Faces of a Fit

Saturday afternoon was beautiful. Dr. Peds drove to the other end of town to complete a few errands. I got my hair cut, and we decided that to celebrate the wonderful fall weather, we would drive down to the rocky beach. Of course, by the time we actually got everyone bundled up and in the car and drove down there, the weather really wasn’t very beautiful anymore, but we perservered because our children were nutso hyper, and we thought a good climb on the rocks would do them good, and maybe tire them out enough for a good night’s sleep.

Because Mr. Sneaky Pants has a propensity for finding every single puddle in the crevices of rocks on the beach and walking through them, and because we had rencently completly ruined a pair of tennis shoes at the beach and just purchased brand new ones, I thought we might try something new in the field of footwear: galoshes on the rocks. Mr. Sneaky Pants and Sarah were very excited to wear their golashes to the shore and had some terrific plans for exploring puddles.

We parked the car and unloaded the troops. They ran down to the rocks. Within three minutes they had managed to fall in one of the puddles and were drenched from the waist down. Sarah in particular was very angry with the situation. She was wet. She was cold (the water only gets to about 45 degrees or so in the dead of summer . . . and the November windchill was rather nippy). She was disappointed at having to go home right after we got to the beach. She was furious that her parents were giggling over the predicament of their two eldest children stranded on a rock on the beach with galoshes full to the brim with icy water. She wailed. Mr. Sneaky Pants sniffled. The Banana tried to eat a few rocks. Everyone slept better for the experience.

And here’s the rescue. Hooray for the dad!