Miss Grabby Fingers and I were pretty much on our own this weekend... so we headed to the beach. I had purchased a new stroller for the big weekend. The box it came in identified it as a jogging stroller. Folks who know me well, know the chances of me jogging are the same as the sun failing to rise in the morning. I chose the stroller because if came with monster truck tires that I figured would be perfect for getting through sand.
And plow through sand it did. Saturday we made a four mile round trip along the Delaware coast. I use the term we loosely since I was propelling while Miss Grabby Fingers slept. It was as close to alone as I was going to get with a one-year-old in my charge and I relished every moment.
Sunday was not an instant replay. Miss Grabby Fingers decided she needed some hands on involvement. And she did just that. After being released from the seat belt, Miss Grabby Fingers got down on all fours and sunk her hands into the sand.
Who knew watching grains of sand sift through fingers would be good for thirty minutes of fascination. There was the tight-fingered sift that allowed the slightest trickle of sand to return to the ground. The open-fingered sift let loose a stream of sand. Perhaps the highlight, for Miss Grabby Fingers anyway, was the roundhouse relocation. The roundhouse consisted of clenching a handful of sand, rotating the entire arm in a circular motion, and releasing the sand when the hand was at the zenith of its arch. And if the sand just happened to land on yours truly - well - so much the better.
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