We took Everett to the beach for the very first time last week, almost right after we pulled into town. We were still in our jeans and without any beach gear but we wanted to take off our shoes and rub our feet in the sand anyway. I use WE, liberally. I took Everett's shoes off while I was holding him and leaned down so that he could stand. His ten toes went down and his ten toes came up. NO-NO-NO! he says. Bent at the waist, still holding him, I reached down and touched the sand with my fingers, showing him that it was nice and soft. I wiggled my toes deeper and attempted to convince him with my very best mom convincing how good it feels on your feet and in between your toes. Kind of the equivalent of making futile mmmmmm! noises when I'm trying to get him to eat something. And it worked equally as well. He pointed at his toes and made the noise that he makes when he wants me to know that he's not as neat and tidy as he'd like to be, so I brushed him off, put his shoes back on and we walked down to the water. He held my hand extra tight and stared suspiciously into the gray tide and then decided it was certainly time to go.
Later on in the week, we made our second beach attempt and Everett could hardly contain his excitement.