Our first trip to the beach with Kelsey was quite eventful. I sat her in the sand and kept a wary eye on her. She proceeded to grab, as only babies can, a handful of sand and put it in her mouth with the speed of a vampire. The truly abhorring thing was that the handful of sand also included an old cigarette butt. I washed her mouth out and brushed her little gums and her two teeth for a good five minutes.
Our next trip to the beach with Kelsey was just as entertaining. She was now walking and moving and shaking all over the sand and in the water, not venturing to far from Scott. She was enjoying chasing the waves. She would pick up and sling sand. She would squat down and just dig. She would look for shells. She loved feeling the wind blow through her little pig tales. She loved laying in the sun on her big beach towel.
She was skipping into the wet sand and waiting for another wave when she froze. And then I saw her little head bend over and look between her legs as a little stream was drizzling into the sand. She watched until she was finished, standing on her tiny toes, and then resumed her frolic on the Carlsbad beach.
The freedom of enjoying the birthright of a Roderick.
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