It’s
still dark outside. I set my alarm an hour earlier than I needed to be up so I
could do my blog before we left for the beach. There will be six of us going
today, my daughter, three of her friend, one little brother, and me. One friend
was supposed to be watching her brother today and would not have been able to
come to the beach, so I said we would take him too. It’s one of the girl’s
birthdays today and I didn’t want the one friend to miss out spending the day
with her because she had to babysit.
It
has been a very long time since I’ve had a ten year old boy at the beach. If I
remember correctly, at that age my son would spend the entire day either in the
water or digging a hole to China in the sand. Hopefully this little boy will be
the same. If not, I haven’t a clue as to how to entertain him.
As
of today, my daughter’s tight circle of friends are all fourteen years old. It
is a very small window of time when this happens because in a few weeks, the
first, and quite ironically the tiniest, of the group turns fifteen. The other
group members were at Sunday’s picnic, so they celebrated then, but my daughter
wanted her friend’s actual birthday to be a little special…so I’m loading up my
car with food, beach paraphernalia and kids, and we are going to have a great
day. The last hoorah before they have to go back to school.
OK,
I have to go make sandwiches and get the cooler packed up, so I hope you have a
wonderful day, and happy writing!
Your Last Challenge was:
The day for one of my favorite fall
activities is finally here and I think I’m more excited than the kids. I could
not have produced a more perfect day than if I had conjured it myself. The air
is crisp and the sky a cloudless blue; and although we need sweatshirts right
now, before we are finished they will be tied around our waists or more than
likely be handed off to Mom, their pack mule in residence.
We pile out of the car, bags in hand, and
are immediately assailed with a cacophony of aromas; the hearty earth after a
night of rain, the pungent rotting fruit, and, since the orchard is part of a
working farm, the barnyard stench also vied for supremacy. The children
wrinkled their noses, but I just smiled. As we walked closer to the entrance, another
scent gently wafted through the air. Now the kids begin to show signs of
interest. Without asking permission or whining and begging as they would have
done when they were young, they detour directly to the barn/store, knowing I
would not object in the least. I too smelled the newest batch of apple cider
donuts emerging from the oven and my mouth was already watering.
Dang it, I never even made it into the
orchard, never described the sweet taste of the pilfered apples or the joy in
watching my adult children start acting like kids again. Oh well, rules are
rules. Sad part is, with my daughter away at college, our only hope at a family
apple picking is if we go up by her one weekend and my son agrees to come with
us. The chances are not likely. I’ll just have to wait and start all over again
when I have grandchildren and they are old enough to go (10 years at least from
now).
Your
Next Challenge is:
The Magical Realm is in an uproar…
You have 10 minutes (be honest). There is no right or wrong,
just write. Spelling and punctuation don’t count and NO ONE is allowed to
criticize what someone else has written. Go.
No comments:
Post a Comment