I'm Too Old to be a Mommy Blogger, but You Still Have to Look at Pictures of the Kids

I cannot go to Cape Cod without kids. It's in my wiring. With only one child available due to summer jobs of the others, I would have been forlorn if my sister and my cousin hadn't been along with their's. As it was, people were sick of hearing me sigh, "This is the lake where the kids learned to swim"; "There's the bike trail where the kids used to bike"; "This is the town where Mystery Man went in his pants when we thought he was toilet trained but wasn't and we couldn't find a public bathroom or toilet paper when we finally found one." OK, there's a lot of stuff I don't miss, like the baths after the beach, the laundry, and the whining. But like the rental dog, I had rental kids. And they were very cute, since they belonged to others.

This is the Whale Watching Cousins. They are particularly well-behaved or their mother gives them drugs, I'm not sure which. Their mother is the Cousin Who Can Knit, Hold Her Kid, and Run a Marathon At the Same Time. We tolerate her perkiness because we remember when she was little and we went camping with her parents who used to pack their clothes in a bookcase and strap it on top of the car. They're just our kind of people.

Kids love to be buried up to their neck in sand. Why? And if they love it so much, why won't they let us do this when they are being annoying and won't sit still. Think of the advantages of being able to bury your kid up to his or her neck while you go to the movies and can watch in peace knowing they are safe from danger, except if it starts snowing.  Kids just love sand. It's part of the perversity of their kid nature.

And, of course, after being buried in the sand, kids love eating. They just don't like it when their aunt sticks a camera in their face as they quietly eat corn, in a chair, on a deck, without a napkin or plate and with no one yelling at them to get a napkin or plate. Until their aunt showed up, with the camera.

But what kids love most at the beach is water. Water, water, water. They're like little dried up raisins just wanting to be rum-soaked. The Little One  perfected the art of  skim boarding this year. She has multiple wounds and scars to show for it. But when the tide wasn't right and all else failed, she was in the water, even when the air was about 65 degrees and the water temp was about 50.

Here are all the nerdy adults who are sensibly dressed, freezing, and watching the crazy children and the crazy mom-cousin in the water.

Note the jackets, hat, blowing hair, and ruddy cheeks.

Yes, I love children at the beach.
I love them so much, that I  already put in my supply for next year: