beach baby

Dear Bird,

Yesterday was your first time at the beach. No perfect it's-a-beautiful-day-and-your-in-a-matching-hat-and-itty-bitty-sized-swim-set photos for you. Your hair was slick with sun screen (I am not even sure it made it to your head), and you promptly did a face plant in the sand  (resulting in cold water being dumped over your head and a good deal of crying and eye rubbing). I didn't take a single "good" photography, but I reminded myself that it didn't matter. It was the warm sun, the chips and salsa, and this first day at the beach I wanted to remember.

You recovered quickly from the above sand/water incident, taking quickly to the beach toys and the cool breeze and the tiny twigs along the shore line. And the sand. You loved the sand. You ran your little hands through it, grabbing fistfuls and shaking your tiny hand like a salt shaker -- watching the grains of sand scatter through your fingers.

Bone played Frisbee with Dad. Baby Reid (whom we affectionately call Hippo, and is the closet thing to a cousin you have) ate sticks.

All in all it was a good afternoon -- the kinds that brings the promise of summer, and sun (and sun screen) soaked afternoons beachside.

Love you more than picnics on a plaid beach blanket.