They Got Along

Lately, my youngest two children have come together over a shared purpose: keeping their parental units in a state of elevated blood pressure by arguing over all things inconsequential.

Just as I once mentioned how diapers are as malodorous on the island as they are on the mainland, so also island kids can and do argue as well as kids on the other side of the bridge.

Don’t worry; it’s still paradise here. It’s just paradise accompanied by background arguing, whining, the occasional stomping, or even my personal favorite, The-Dramatic-Falling-to-the-Floor-in-Despair move. (For the record, both LCB and I have been known to imitate this move in an attempt to demonstrate how stupid it looks, which has led to things like back pain, torn rotator cuffs, and no decrease in the small people’s use of the aforementioned move.)

Good times.

At any rate, in a moment of distraction last weekend, my youngest two forgot their common goal of late and acquired another one. Deciding the sun was “too hot” that day (yes, yes, I know, and that after the winter we’ve had and all) and ignoring the obvious solution (a.k.a. the ocean), they decided to build a tent to protect them from the sun.

Realizing they had three towels and two chairs to work with, which they quickly determined made for close quarters, they decided to round up a bunch of old, thick pieces of dune grass lying scattered around the beach.

100_8058100_8063100_8068After amassing an impressive stack, they formed an arch with the stalks. This took longer than you might think since they had to dig the stalks deep enough into the sand, and then angle them just so.

100_8071100_8072When they felt the base of their structure was secure, they placed the towels over the stalks, reorganizing them several times based on wind currents and the varying weight of the towels.

Then, they sat under their makeshift tent for about five minutes and decided they were ready to return home, tired after a hard day of construction.

On the way home, of course, they recalled their shared purpose. Many of you can draw on firsthand experience to imagine how this scene played out.

“Get your stinky big toe off my seat!” cried Baby-girl.

Her brother laughed an ill-boding laugh, and then pointed out, “Technically, it’s not on your seat.”

Overwhelmed by original thought, she countered, “It is, too!”

“Not technically,” was accompanied by more laughter.

And then the howl of, “Mooooooooomm!” drowned out my son’s laughter and erased my last remnant of sanity.

And we all lived the happily ever after that real people sometimes get to live.

The End

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