We lucked into blue skies this morning, so dragged the kids out of their beds first thing, and headed to the local sandy beach. We feared not being able to find anywhere to park after our eldest caused us to be an hour later leaving the house than we planned, but our fears were unfounded – it turns out most people don’t turn up at the beach until after lunch.
Within minutes of setting up camp on the beach, the younger children raced into the surf, with me not far behind – charged with their safety, and the age old tradition of being “that Dad who goes into the sea with his children”. Don’t get me started about parents that sit on the beach and watch from a distance – you only have to see the kids excitement when they see me following them in to tell you why it’s worth doing.
I won’t lie. The sea was cold. As I strode past the kids into the deeper water, the shock took my breath away. I turned around, grinned at them hopping around on tiptoes, and dove head-first into the water – then flat out front crawl until the shock ebbed away. By the time I turned back around, they were both swimming like lunatics towards me.
We had a wonderful day. We swam, ate sandwiches brought from home, and I even wandered to the shops and bought a paperback book to read on the beach (Kindles and beaches really don’t go together).
Tomorrow will hopefully be more of the same, but we suspect thunderstorms may roll up the coast. Fingers crossed the weather forecast is wrong.