We cashed in some much-needed vacation time and headed south to the beach this week. Contrary to past visits, there was no major incidents - no lost babies in elevators, no trips to the ER by the shore. We frolicked in the pools and built castles in the sand. The weather was perfect and sunny, and the beach crowds hadn't yet converged in its usual throngs.
We played Shark:
Me: in the water, coming after Finn "Dun-uh... Dun-uh.... dun-uh-dun-uh-dun-uh..."
Finn: "Mom, why you say 'DONUT' when you play Shark?"
We attacked each other with water pistols in the pool and squealed "Retreat! Retreat!" when liquid ammunition ran low. (Actually, the boys yelled, "THE TREAT! THE TREAT!")
Our last night there, a monumental event happened. My oldest son picked up his first redhead. In a bar. At the beach.
He must've been a vision of masculinity.
I know how girls think. Finn didn't seem like the other guys there. He stood out from the crowd. He was more adventurous, more dashing. Less sandy.
At first, Finn played it cool.
But in no time, she won his attention by being beligerent.
Finn: "Mom... that girl over there said I don't start with 'F'. She said I DON'T."
He's learning the letters of his name & likes to share them with random people.
But he soon explained the way things were to the RHH, and she came around.
In no time, they were inseperable. She was even able to keep up with our little Tornado Boy. Her name was Genevieve.
They caroused in the Fountain together. She met his brother.
Finn introduced her to his Dad. They made sand soup. (Delish!)
Things were getting serious, fast.
They hit a snag in the relationship when Finn discovered she was easily distracted, and wouldn't blindly follow him everywhere.
But they made up quickly.
Genevieve, we barely knew ye.
* I don't REALLY think a five-year-old is an actual hussy, so please don't get your knickers in a twist.