She's had very little exposure to the ocean, and I, of course, am the mother who sets her back a decade. We walked down to the surf and I plopped her down in the sand so we could watch the waves up close when all of a sudden, wham....a wave smackdown. One might have thought I'd have seen it coming, but sadly, it somehow snuck up on me.
We were both soaked from the waist down, shoes and all.
M was rather put out. She started crying and yelling waterstopnostopwaterstop at the ocean, which responded by curling and foaming and laughing at us. J stood a bit farther up on the shore shaking his head. I decided since I was already wet, I might as well get wetter.
Because nothing says freedom like standing fully clothed in the ocean on a Sunday in January.