I'm proud to report that we experienced no incidents of sunburn, which is partially due to our vigilance and partially due to my husband's method of sunscreen application. He'd be a wonderful father to mimes. (Did you know how difficult it is to rub in titanium dioxide sunscreen? It's like white tar. Highly effective white tar, of course.)
As for me, I took the plunge and bought a floppy straw hat to wear at the beach. I was hoping that the hat would make me look sophisticated and mysterious. Incognito, even. My children still recognized me, though, so my secret desire to have an afternoon where I quietly sat on the beach nearby them while sipping a cool beverage never materialized.
Am I the only person who equates cotton candy with house insulation? It barely seems edible, yet there's this odd force that made me take not one, not two, but multiple bites before I could translate the thought that this really isn't any good into the action to stop eating it. (I experience this same phenomenon with McDonald's french fries. They're kind of terrible, yet I mindlessly eat them until my brain catches up to that fact.)
My kids loved the cotton candy. Of course.
They also loved the water. I'm in full agreement with this one. There's something both calming and grand about the ocean. Peaceful and powerful. My thoughts always turn toward God when I'm near water, and I always make sure I swim -- really swim -- in the ocean at least once.
Right now my straw hat is hanging on a hook behind my bedroom door.
Months from now when the semester has begun, when I tell time by the arrival of the school bus, when the weather is crisp, and when my hallway is marked with jackets and boots instead of flip flops, I'll likely notice it.
I'll remember these humid lazy days. It's good for the soul to have some days like these.
A very special thanks to my brothers-in-law and mother-in-law who (unlike me) remembered their cameras and graciously took pictures for us on this vacation.