The Trouble With the Beach is the Beach

Recently, we have enjoyed daily excursions to the beach. Matthew has a 2-person boat that's proven itself lake (if not sea) worthy on trips to and from the lighthouse on the pier. We've built our share of castles and dug out plenty of tide pools in which to watch the lake water swirl. Typical beach fun. We would be all set to have more fun just like it, except for one little hiccup.

Dandelion can't help getting coated in sand each time we go down to the shore . . . not that I mind. I mean sure, there's some pretty intense clean up called for there, but if she was fine with it, I would be too. Trouble is, she isn't fine with it.

The sand on her legs in the picture is so thick it makes her look like she's wearing those thick Miss America swimsuit competition pantyhose. Not the best look, but if she didn't care, neither would I. Trouble is, she does care.

This is how she gets herself into such a state: Dandelion can't resist the water, but the lake is too cold for her to last in there for very long. Freezing cold and soaking wet, she retreats to the sun-warmed sand a little way from the water. There she'll lie down, roll around a little, make sand angels, whatever it takes to speed up the warming process.

And now it is time for some math.

wet kid + sand = sand-coated kid
sand-coated + Dandelion = Irreconcilable Differences

She told me today that from now on she only wants to go to beaches without sand (whatever those are). I'd like to see Dandelion work things out. This is just a rough patch, after all. She'll get over it. She's too young to swear off beaches forever.