At the Beach

I took the little ones to the beach yesterday. The water was icy but Son wanted to boogie board with me, and Daughter wanted me to dunk my head in the water with her. (Sigh) Okay, I dared the water.
“It’s cold!” said I.
“Take the pain! Take the pain!” said Son.

Later the children went hunting for sand crabs. Daughter brought a bucket of them to me. (Sand crabs look like thumbs with skinny insect legs protruding from the underside. They vary in size from house fly up to actual thumb size.) I didn’t actually know how to catch them, so I asked Daughter.
“How do you catch sand crabs?”
“It’s easy. You put your hands in the sand, and pull them up.”
Huh?
I walked over to where Son was hunting.
“How do you catch sand crabs?”
“You wait for the water to come, then stick your hands in the sand. When you feel them, you pull them up. Like this.”
He pulled one up.
Huh?
I had to try, so on the next wave I thrust both hands into the sand, and indeed, I felt something on my fingers. I pulled up a huge wad of sand, and yes, something on the bottom was wiggling. I’d caught like five crabs. Who knew, right?

Later Daughter “cooked” with sand. I purchased her plates for a shell each, and started reciting poetry.
Me: “They sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong tree grows, and there in a wood a piggy-wig stood.”
Her: “With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose. With a ring at the end of his nose.”
Me: “Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring? Said the Piggy, 'I will.' So they took it away, and were married next day.”
Her: “By the turkey who lives on the hill.”
Me: “They dined on mince and slices of quince, which they ate with a runcible spoon.”

Neither of us could remember the ending.

On the drive home I lamented that I never win the cuter-than contest. “That’s not true, Daddy,” Daughter said cheerfully. “Who’s cuter, Daddy or a booger? Daddy! You’re cuter than a booger, Daddy.”
I had to smile at that compliment.