Sunday Night at the Beach: The Edition that Didn’t End Well

We had a glorious time for quite some time.  The kidlets wanted to go to a sandy beach, but the evening was dwindling already, so I didn’t want to drive all the way to the quiet end of the point like I normally do when we go to the sandy beach.   Dr. Peds was dropping YaYa off at camp for the week, so I decided to stop at the first access point across the bridge, which many locals call the tot beach.  I’m not sure why it’s called that.   The tot beach is not my favorite beach.  Although it’s very accessible, maybe because it’s so accessible, actually, there always seems to be garbage at this beach.  I really, really hate garbage at the beach.  Also, for some reason there always seems to be  a lot of debris at this particular beach too, like tiny pieces of driftwood and wood chips and weird stuff mixed in the sand.  I’m not sure why that is so different from the stretches of beach farther down.

Anyway, despite this, the kidlets were having a great time, until Mr. TOF threw sand at me repeatedly and I got frustrated and told him if he didn’t stop we were leaving.  He did it again, and then we were leaving, which caused a colossal meltdown on his part, and resulted in me carrying a screaming and kicking child back to the car, and since he was soaked to the bone and covered with sand that we didn’t have a chance to rinse off, it also meant pealing him down to his underwear, which he was not happy about, and I think probably the whole beach and parking lot thought I was a child abuser by the time we drove away.  It was one of those stellar parenting nights.

But look at all the fun we had before the sand throwing.  Glorious.