The walk to the beach was rustic with the wild lilacs and basil perfuming the air:
The water was did-I-just-step-into-an-ice-bucket?-cold but it only deterred Collin briefly.
Beach Walk Manager: I see you've listed in your rental agreement that you have a 3 year-old and a 1 year-old in your party, Ma'am. Perhaps I can suggest a different, more child-freindly guest house which does not include a SPIRAL STAIRCASE OF DEATH for your family weekend getaway.
Mommy: Why thank you for alerting me. What wonderful customer service, Beach Walk Manager!
The above conversation only happened in Mommy's mind.
This is what greeted us in our lovely, yet treacherous beach house:
We would have requested another house, but we had just struggled through Friday afternoon traffic and the weather forecast warned that these were the only non-rainy hours we would have all weekend (lies), so instead we hoofed it to the beach. Baba created his own version of child-proofing which worked out fine:
Nothing like eating pasta in your daddy's arms after a long travel day:
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