Hank woke up and we packed up and shipped out to Cardiff around 2:30pm. We parked and walked over to the Kook and sat, waiting for the trains that came about every 45 minutes, as is our custom.
|Walking along the garden path from our car to the Kook statue.|
Then Johnny said he wanted to go play with sand... which is a rare occurrence. Usually it's Hank who is begging to play with sand, not Johnny. Well, I tried to get them to go back to the car to get the diaper/snack/water bag and the sand toys, but Johnny wasn't having it and took off to the beach. Hank and I had no choice but to follow, armed only with my purse.
Once we got down to the sand, we walked for awhile and found a really cool spot by a bridge (something else Johnny is obsessed with right now) with lots of rocks for throwing. We threw some rocks into the lagoon, then crossed over the bridge a couple of times (not my favorite activity since there was no sidewalk and there were LOTS of cars) and back to the beach to throw rocks. By this point, I had been parked in the 2 hour lot for an hour and forty-five minutes. So I gave the boys a five minute countdown and they threw rocks for five more minutes.
Then I announced, "Okay boys! It's been five minutes. Time to go." Aaaaaaaaand, they weren't having any of it. Now, unfortunately, I don't have a leg to stand on with these declarations because I can't force them both to do something that they don't want to do. I'm not supposed to be lifting 30 pounds, much less 75 (which is what they weigh together). I do try as much as possible to coax/convince/compromise them into doing certain things with me, but this could be an expensive parking ticket if we didn't get moving. So I managed to coax Hank into leaving and just picked up Johnny.
We made it about 30 feet.
Hank got distracted by a large mound of sand and Johnny was screaming to be put down, so I put down Johnny with the agreement that he would walk to the car next to me. I walked back to Hank, explained to him that we have to get moving so I needed to carry him, which he was fine with. I picked up Hank and turned back to meet with Johnny... and he wasn't there. Where did he go, you ask? Back to where the rocks were. And he was having a merry time throwing rocks into the lagoon. So Hank flung himself out of my arms and joined his brother.
Honestly, at this point I'm panicking.
I'm worried about getting a ticket in the timed lot. I have no snacks with me. Or water. None at all. Hank the tank hasn't had anything to eat since the handful of dry cereal he had when we drove in two hours ago and you don't get to be a 2-year-old in the 100th percentile without eating every hour. And I can't carry both boys back to the car. Suddenly, I'm picturing myself having to drag the boys by their arms through the sand back to the car while they scream, cry, and generally melt down from thirst, hunger, and displeasure at being removed from their fun activity. Not something this trying-so-hard-to-be-peaceful parent wants to attempt.
So what do my darling children do as I'm having in inner panic attack? They remove their clothes and start wading in the water.
And at that point, I have two options:
- Option 1- Lose my ever-loving mind over the ridiculous parking ticket that is surely awaiting me, the wet clothes I now have to carry back to the car, and the side eyes I'll be getting from the other beach-goers as my naked sons traipse down the beach.
- Option 2- Laugh and take pictures.
|The full monty|
|Johnny picking out the best rock for throwing.|
|Hank's clothes were completely wet and I didn't have any fresh diapers with me, so he walked back to the car naked. Well, he made me carry him most of the way.|