Park Buddy and I took advantage of a gorgeous San Francisco day and sashayed down to Crissy Field for a beach adventure. (I know, it doesn’t look all that nice, there’s fog on the Golden Gate Bridge and all, but c’mon, it’s August here!)
The kids love the beach, and the Presidio, being inside the Golden Gate Bridge, is sheltered from big ocean waves — we just get wake from freighters bringing in tons of lead-paint-tainted toys every twenty minutes or so.
Astonishing and wonderful to me was how little attention the kids paid to how we thought they should be playing.
- The first half-hour, they just wanted to let the swash run around their knees. Seriously. Thirty minutes of me saying with increasing tedium — “Splash. Splash. *yawn* Splash.” — and the kids laughing uproariously at every new baby-wave.
- During our picnic, we sat them facing the phenomenal Golden Gate Bridge (which by this point was visible, the fog having lifted). Within a minute, both had turned their backs and become engrossed in the men and digging equipment across the street.
- Back on the beach, there was no engaging them in sand castles and beachcombing — they just wanted to sit in a hole and play footsie. Again, laughing to bust a gut.
Good times, good kids. Sometimes I wonder if we really do much at all for them — on days like this we just bask in their inherent wonderfulness.
Sigh. I wish summer would go on forever.