One of the most obvious (and best) things about California is the weather. It means we can do all sorts of things that aren't possible in other parts of the western world. Like taking M to the beach in January.
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.