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A boy and a stick

I took Clownfish to the beach yesterday. It was far too cold for swimming but he wanted to karate chop the waves (hiyah!) and that was the location he chose for our post-grad Mommy-Clownfish picnic. We built a sandcastle and a moat and then the castle was condemned for flooding and was washed out to sea. I would have been content to sit and enjoy a few hours, dig a little sand, eat a little, and relax.

My son was not so content.

He found a piece of driftwood--a stick, about the diameter of a larger broom handle and about half as long. First he used it to draw finish lines for beach races. After my third race I had the idea to "time" him as he happily raced himself. Then he used it as a golf club to hit rocks and shells into the ocean. That little problem of rocks and shells more often getting buried than flying when hit with a stick? Solved, when he made small sand mound "golf tees." Finally, he used his stick as a baseball bat to blast rocks and shells that he tossed into the air even further into the sea.

Get me a beach chair, a big umbrella, and a margarita. My son, the boy who invents three sports in a spring afternoon on a beach, did NOT get this behavior from me.

Full post as published by Butterflyfish on May 12, 2009 (boomark / email).