I need to get caught up on my posts, and I wanted to continue with my Dillon Beach Spread.So here goes.
This is Sam's first encounter with sand, which is always a big first in any child's life. He was pleased, but evidently not too hungry, because not too much ended up in his mouth. Sad to say, that hat wasn't long for his head. It soon came to be shade for a grateful patch of sand.
I'm not sure how to explain this next photo. Brian got his hands on a Fox hat and started flashing gang signs. His fingers are twisted into some distorted mockery of a W for West Side, and the Vulcan sign for peace. When I pointed this out to him, he pulled a 9mm on me, shot me in the shoulder, and took my wallet. He's a lot more hard core than I thought. Christine thought the whole thing was cute. Ah, gangsta love.
This next one was too sweet. I actually got a small cavity just from seeing it. Genna's in pink, Julia's in blue. The ocean's also in blue. Mornings at the beach house can be idyllic (once the shrieking has abated).
Sam soon turned to eating sand, as all red-blooded children must. In fact, he was so enamored with the sand that when we plucked him from its gritty surface, he grimaced and flopped to express his displeasure. But that only made his hat become skewed at a jaunty angle, so the camera was once again summoned to duty.
We didn't take the kids to the park for the late night Petaluma fireworks. It's not a lack of patriotic zeal that kept us away: we just didn't feel like dealing with four youngins late at night in huge crowds. But we did celebrate, if a bit less...climactic. We gave the kids their own set of glowsticks, brought them into the walk-in pantry, and turned off the lights. It turned into a photo op for me. And guess what? I think they were just as happy with the glowsticks and a decent bedtime as they would have been with fireworks and grumpiness.
