Beached wail

Right, so the Household barely thought of the beach the whole of summer and now, in LATE APRIL, we spend most of the weekend there.

What’s with that?

And what’s with the weather? I mean, I’m not knocking it, but 29C on April 28 … totally bizarre.

Sprog 1 had a birthday party/sleepover at Maroubra on Saturday, so we dropped her off and hit Maroubra Beach for a splash.

Sprog 2 was revelling in the attention. She SO loves being an only child. She even started wistfully asking if there were cars that were just for three people.

Normally a beach wuss (following a traumatic bluebottle incident in kindy), there was something about having her parents all to herself that brought out the daredevil in her. She was ducking under waves and everything.

It was awesome.

Afterwards, we were pressed into throwing her netball between the three of us for an AGE before the grown-ups finally got jack of it and took her to the pub, where her good humour evaporated after Husband bought her a pink lemonade when she actually wanted a Lift.

The hide.

We returned to Maroubra yesterday to collect Sprog 1, then headed for Bondi Beach for a change of scenery. After intially bitching and complaining and insisting she wouldn’t put a single toe the water, Sprog 1 had the most amazing time boogie boarding. She was in absolute HEAVEN.

So was Sprog 2, until she got entangled in Sprog 1’s long legs and went under. Much wailing ensued and she retreated to the sand, where she insisted I build sandcastles with her. Hurrah. I’m not a sand-under-the-fingernails kind of gal. I’m not a beach girl generally. All I can think about is how the sun is burning my delicate, redheaded skin to a crisp.

In LATE APRIL … I know, bizarre.

But it was so lovely to be outside in the balmy fresh air, swimming in blissfully clear water (OK, standing in knee-deep water), under a sky so dazzlingly blue.

Such a divine way to end my holiday before going back to the grindstone this morning.

How was your weekend?