The Beach and Ben

Ben and the beach have sort of a love/hate relationship. This year he made some small improvements -- actually went in the water for the first time, albeit only ankle deep -- but in many ways it was a repeat of past performances. There was anxiety about the waves, the sand, the sea weed, the possibility of sharks, crabs, fish, and orcas (yes orcas, thanks to Go, Diego Go!).

Yesterday's trip to the beach was pretty much a disaster; we timed it wrong and the tide was coming in, the surf was rough, and Ben spent the entire time walking to the water's edge and then screaming and running back up the beach with every wave.

I didn't want to end our vacation with a bad beach experience for Ben so late this afternoon I took him back to the beach, just the two of us. The tide was going out so the waves were not so intimidating. If this was going to be successful we had to do it on Ben's terms, I decided. So I patiently carried him over every clump of sea weed on the sand, allowed him to sit in my lap instead of trying to persuade him to sit directly on the sand, and didn't push the idea of going into the water.

We had a great time. We built a sand castle, complete with a sea gull feather for a flag (Ben's idea), and gradually worked our way into the water. We sunk our feet into the wet sand up to our ankles and pretended we were stuck and then waited for the surf to wash over our feet. When it was time to go, I had to coax Ben off the beach.

I still am holding out hope that when he is a little bit older, Ben and the beach will have a good relationship. For now it's an uneasy truce, but that's fine with me.