Livin' the Dream

A trail of clumpy wet sand meanders across our bathroom floor and blankets the bottom of our bathtub. To most, a disgusting word picture, but to me it's beauty personified.

It's the drop-of-a-hat decision to put on our swimsuits, lather on sunblock, and hop on our bikes to the beach. It's the smile taking up half of Baby Dude's face, the half that is not being eaten by the enormous helmet on his head. It's the giggly voice of Lil' Miss strapped in the kid's seat behind me yelling, "Move it, Sister! Daddy's way up there!" It's locking our bikes together, dropping our towels and flipflops in the sand, and making a bee line for the shore. It's Lil' Miss holding Daddy's hand as they leap and karate chop crashing waves. It's her arms squeezed tightly around his neck as he carries her past the shore break to the glassy swells where they slide up and over, up and over. It's stomping, splashing, and making footprints in the wet sand with Baby Dude. It's the look of sheer joy on his face as he scoops up a wad of mud and chucks it right at my head. It's the horrified looks of castle builders as Mr. Fee-Fie-Foe-Fum demolishes their fortresses with his tiny hands of doom. It is not, I repeat, NOT the slimy sandcrabs Daddy throws at Mommy, but it is the laughter, the smiles, and the "Isn't-this-the-best?" looks we share a hundred times. It's the perfect feeling of family completeness.

This, I confess, is either a tired mom's worst excuse for not cleaning a bathroom, or the best reason ever.