There were a few other things about our beach trip that I wanted to mention. Biscuit is at such a fun age right now. He’s starting to put things together and make comparisons and just really seeing things his own way.
The ocean: When we got to the room, I took Biscuit to the sliding glass door that opens to the balcony and asked, “What do you see?”
“Ooo. I see a ocean,” he said. “It coming to us. Look, Mama. It coming right to us.”
The bridge: Atlantic Beach is on a long, skinny island, so there’s a tall arcing bridge that connects the island to the mainland. The first time we went over the bridge, we were all excited to see the ocean. But as we were going back over the bridge to go to dinner, Biscuit got chatty. He had to repeat what he said a few times before we got it.
“This troll bridge, Mama and Daddy,” Biscuit said. “Big troll live under bridge.” I’m guessing he’s talking about the “Three Billy Goats Gruff.”
A new game: Biscuit came up with a game to play on our trip. It takes about 4 to 4½ hours to get from our house to the beach we were going to. We thought it was cute … well, at least the first 20 times we had to play it.
“What your favorite animal, Mama?” Biscuit would ask.
I didn’t know my choice would be my final answer, so I said, “My favorite animal is … um … a … um … brown cow. Moooooooo.”
“That nice cow mooing, Mama,” Biscuit said. “What your favorite animal, Daddy?” Biscuit asked.
“I like dogs,” Jeff said. “Wuff. Wuff.”
“That nice dog barking, Daddy,” Biscuit said. “What your favorite animal, Mama?”
I thought I was change things up a little, so I said, “My favorite animal is a gray dolphin. Eeek. Eeek. Eeek”
“No, Mama. Your favorite animal a brown cow. Mooooo,” Biscuit said. I didn’t realize that my first choice would also be my last. I think I would’ve picked something a little more interesting than a brown cow.”
Griffin’s favorite animal, by the way, was a brown horse. That worked out well because there’s an island near Atlantic Beach that is home to a population of 40-plus wild horses. It’s called Carrot Island if you want to check it out.
The postcard: I found a postcard with a great picture of one of the wild horses on it. “We have to buy this for the boy,” I told Jeff.
You would’ve thought we handed him a 24-karat gold brick. He was so excited about his “horse picture.” He carried it around while we were at the beach, then he kept it on the kitchen table for at least three days after we got home.
1 comment:
have i ever told you the story of me being a goat in an elementary-school production of "the three billy goats gruff" -- the REAR END of said goat. i had butter containers on my feet to look like hooves and was bent over for what felt like hours with my hands on the waist of the kid who got to play the front end of the goat. my back hurts just thinking about it! (also: maybe this is the root of my goat love?)
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