Usually we get the beach around 10am and stay about two hours then grab lunch on the way home. Sometimes we grab lunch and then go in the afternoon. Kevin’s favorite is when we grab dinner and go for sunset. Yes, it’s the east coast with the sun setting behind us, but we all still love the dusky glow on the water.
(Even behind us, sunsets on palm tree skylines are lovely.)
Apparently the schedule always has something to do with food. Well, duh. Boys.
One morning this summer I did something I’ve never done before. I woke up the kids in the dark of the morning and told them to brush their teeth, put on their swim suits, and pile into the van. By 5:55am we were at the Dunkin Donuts on Ocean Blvd. (Food must be in the plan somewhere. Always.) By 6:10 we sat, lined on our towels at Bathtub Beach, munching and waiting on the sunrise.
We stayed for more than two hours. Swimming, chasing crabs, and hassling one researcher who was marking turtles nests from the night before. She confirmed that a hole near our towels had been the beginnings of a sea turtle’s body pit but had turned out to be a false crawl. Aside from that researcher and one man walking his dog, that world was ours alone.
Watcha got, Bubba?
As we started our trek back to the van, Blue said, “We should do that more often.”
His brothers agreed.
I woke them up at 5:15 in the morning. We inched through our city in the darkness, Toby making up a song as we drove, “We’re going to the beach. It’s still dark. I’m not scared.” It reminded me of “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.”
They want to do it again.
My boys drive me crazy. They’re terrible about leaving wet things places where they will start to smell. They never close doors. One says he’s reading then can’t answer anything about the chapter he’s allegedly finished. Two can’t be still—ever. We often worry that they’ll never get into college. One because school is hard for him. One because we figure he’s just as likely to go to jail. And one because, well, that still doesn’t seem to be the path for kids with Fragile X.
But they’re happy to be dragged out of bed for beachside sunrise picnics.
That’s something.
They’re getting so big, but they are still so, so small. It can be hard to see past the wet, smelly irritations of every day. Here’s to moments that form a better picture of who they are.