Well, this is embarrassing.
We went to the beach something like six weeks ago and I haven’t shared any of our trip here on the blog. Why? Oh that’s right. Because one week after getting back from the beach, we PACKED, MOVED, AND ARE STILL UNPACKING THE ENTIRE CONTENTS OF OUR ENTIRE LIVES. Will the boxes ever end. Rhetorical, so don’t bother. I think moving is a lot like giving birth. You forget how awful it is until it’s too little too late. The one perk of both is that at the end of all that hard work, you get a “prize” as my obstetrician would say. A baby or a house. In this instance, a house, obviously.
So, moving on…. (get it?)
We took a trip to the beach in June just the three of us. We always go the same little island off the coast of North Carolina that we’ve been going to for as long as I can remember. It’s a sweet place packed full of memories, and quite honestly feels like my second home. This summer is very likely our last one there because my grandmother is selling her condo where we always stay. I’m mostly just sad that this is not a place Aven will ever remember.
Aven would live outside if we would allow it, so I felt pretty certain that she would enjoy the beach. It took her a minute to figure out the sand and to not stop every two minutes to wipe her hands off, but after that she was loving it.
Everything and everyone got a wave from her. Shells, the kite flying, the birds scurrying around, the ocean, and of course all the strangers passing by. Stinking adorable, that kid.
You should know in advance that I take one million pictures when we’re at the beach. I know no other way. So if you mind seeing pictures of a cute baby on a beach, a) what the hay is wrong with you, and b) you should probably skip this one.
Her favorite thing to do was just pace up and down the beach – gathering shells, waving a lot, and being equal parts excited / terrified to see birds.
Until next time, beach.
We’ll be missing you.