Castles in the Sand

Ok, I know some of you (Mom) likely think the whole contest thing is all well and good, but let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming and start talking about the KIDS!

So, let’s do just that.

This weekend, Noah and I went to the U.S. Open Sandcastle Competition in Imperial Beach. We had an early lunch and a half nap before making a day of it (or… rest of the day of it). It was super crowded but still a lot of fun. We got there after they had finished building and during the judging period. I took bunches of pictures but just brought the point and shoot which lacks a little when it comes to wide angle. Luckily, two of my favorites were smaller ones. Here are shots of a sandcastle held in a sand-hand, and the front and BACKside of Mount Rushmore which was very funny.

We had to stop halfway down the beach because Noah just couldn’t help himself but fall to the sand at each display and start digging his own holes and making little tiny castles with a water bottle lid he had found. So we stopped and played in the sand for about 45 minutes.

Normally, he doesn’t like to go near the water when we go to the beach, so I didn’t pack a bathing suit. But I did bring a spare pair of underwear because unfortunately, we are still having the occasional accident, especially when having too much fun or when far from a restroom. Well, this time, he decided to run into the waves repeatedly, so finally, I stripped him of his shirt and his shorts and he played happily in his Tigger Underwear!

No one seemed to care.

On the way back to the car, we passed a house that was having a party in their side yard with a bunch of drums set up and a rockin’ drum circle going on. We stayed and listened for a good long time from the other side of their white picket fence. Noah said, “Mommy, I can feel my heart!”

“Well, THAT’s good!”

“I mean, the drumming makes my heart feel good. Really good.”

Awwwwwww! How sweet!

Afterward, we went to a nearby hole-in-the-wall-pizza-place and had some pepperoni slices.

Near the end of the day, he started repeating every twenty minutes, “I love you, Mom”. This tends to mean a lovely combination of “I am getting sleepy” and “I have missed spending time with you, Mom”. I asked him what his favorite part of the day was, and he wouldn’t be persuaded… the answer was consistently, “ALL of it! I had a BLAST!!”

I did, too.