Sandy Hook

It was 78 degrees yesterday.  So Mommy took me to the beach.  I spent the whole long car ride saying "Go to Sandy Hook in New Jersey.  It's the name of the beach."  I said that over and over again, when I wasn't singing The Farmer In The Dell.

Mommy spent the whole ride telling herself that getting ones driver's license should mean that they are able to drive places beyond the ten-mile radius of our house.   And trying not to swerve when she handed me snacks and water.

We were the only ones there.  I roamed free, like a chicken, Mommy said, which didn't make much sense to me,  but I was way too busy to care.  Mommy sat and knit.  You can see me way in the distance there.

I still have sand in my hair today, like a souvenir, because I used my bucket as a hat.  And then when Mommy asked me not to do that, I filled my hat with sand and put it on.  See?  I know how to listen!

I was a little nervous of the water at first and so I just ran away from it, which I guess is why Mommy was so comfortable letting me run wherever I wanted.  (Also it was freezing).  But then, because she doesn't really know how to just sit still and relax, Mommy brought me down to the water and showed me how fun it is!  We jumped in the waves until our toes were numb and my pants were all wet, and then we ran away back to the warm sand and I buried my feet and Mommy sat down to knit again, which was silly, since obviously I was just going to run to water again once my feet thawed and that's exactly what I did.






I really like eating sand.  No one can convince me otherwise.

I also really like putting shells in my bucket.  I did that for five whole minutes.

Do you like how my bucket and my shovel match my outfit?  Mommy did not do that on purpose.

And then I was so tired that I fell asleep in the car and didn't really want to do anything but read stories all afternoon.

When can we go again?