Ladybug Beach

What a strange weekend we had at the beach: It was in the mid-to-high 80s, for starters, so we didn't quite know what to do with all of that heat. But then of all things, the beach was swarming with ladybugs. At first it seemed like a nice little coincidence because Luke is studying bugs this week in school, and he was super-excited when we found the first one, or two, or three. Then it quickly degenerated into, "Here, let me get those ladybugs off your back," and "Are you sure we're not sitting on a nest of some kind?"

This weekend was also remarkable for being the first time that Zach really enjoyed the beach in any traditional sense. He still hasn't gotten the memo about not eating the sand. But he love, love, loves the water and the waves and the mushy sand beneath. If he could walk on his own, he would have just headed straight in to the (59-degree) surf. Here, with Dave, is his first dip in the Pacific.

Zach loves a lot of other things about the beach too: Munching on apples, drinking big bottles of water, banging shells together, crumpling plastic bags, and especially holding on to any gigantic big ball he can find. At one point he seemed to be coveting a big red ball under the next beach umbrella over; luckily the owners of the ball happened to be neighbors of ours from down the street. "We've got a hundred of them at home," the mom assured me as she handed the ball over to Zach. He has barely let go of it since.

It probably goes without saying, but his other favorite thing to do is to hang or climb on me. The other day I was lying down on my stomach in the sand and Zach crawled up the back of my legs, until his head was resting on my bottom, then put his head down with an "ah" and rested there on that comfy pillow. I felt like a mama sea lion on a big rock. Today his little game was hanging out behind me and peeking out whenever I turned my head. Cracked him up. And, as observant Dave pointed out, nothing - nothing! - sounds better than hearing a baby laugh.