Saturday, June 11, 2011
I took my son to the beach today. When we got home I was hot and sticky, still in my bathing suit, covered in sweat and sun block. We came in and I put down my keys. We walked out the back door to put the sand toys away on the deck. Whump. The door swung shut behind us.
Oh, no. Locked. Locked out. Hot and sticky and locked out. Stroller locked in the car. Husband in a golf tournament three hours away. Parents-in-law have a spare key. They're not answering; possibly on their way to church. Who knows?
Well, let's garden. We plant some shrubs. I'm now dirtier. A sunburn is starting to emerge on the back of his calves.
Let's just sit, sit here in the shade. We might have a long walk ahead of us. We need to make a plan.
"Can we talk outside?" he asks.
"Yes, yes we can talk outside. What did you want to talk about?"
"How do you talk to a girl?" he asks. He is two, almost three.
"You just talk to her. Did you want to talk to that girl on the beach?"
"Yes. Just two kids."
"You wanted to talk to her without other kids?"
"Not two boys."
There were two older boys in her group, probably cousins.
"Honey, you don't worry about other boys. If you want to talk to a girl, don't worry about other boys. You just go right up and talk to her. Okay? Does that help?"
I love this boy.