Sun, Sand, and Silly Little Girls

I am twenty-seven years old.  Of this much I am now sure.  Celeste had to remind me of that fact yesterday when I was forking a hefty piece of birthday cake into my mouth, and little Ruby said, “Hey, can I have some of that?” to which I shrewdly replied, “When you’re twenty-eight years old, you can eat all the cake you want.”  Celeste then pointed out that by those standards, I was in clear violation.  I made an amendment to my statement and returned to my cake eating.

Pedaling around on the Boardwalk

It was all part of a wonderful weekend we spent in Virginia Beach with my sister and her family, most notably the three cutest little girls east of the Mississip: Olivia (Viv), Ruby (Rooster), and Sonoma (NomaSo).  It's become something of a tradition for us East-Coast-Olsens to come together while the bulk of the family gathers at significant gravestones dotting the northernmost tip of Utah.  We may be few in numbers out here, but let's face it family, Holly and I were always the life of the party.

Add into the mix that it was little Ruby's birthday over the weekend (it was in fact her birthday cake that I was gatekeeping and consuming), and you have a recipe for lots of squealing, smiling, laughing, crying, and more squealing (and more crying).  The girls were always two steps ahead of us in terms of activities and bright ideas.  Celeste and I hadn't even put our luggage down on our first night before the girls pulled us into a scavenger hunt they had carefully and meticulously planned.  There was ping-pong to be played (Viv and set the WORLD record of 13 consecutive hits in a rally), dice to be rolled, and presents to be opened.  They always had a good reason to be eating candy and a ready response for the words: "Girls, it's bedtime."  I love dem girls.

The Three Amigas

The girls took to Merlin, and Merlin took to the girls.  He's come a long way from being terrified of children (true story) to being their friendly canine companion.

Present time.

Jungle Mini Golf

NomaSo didn't really do much golfing.  After the first hole she gave her ball to her mother and her putter to her father, then spent most of her time playing on the props, getting in the way of our shots, and talking to herself.

Aside from all the pre-tween girly fun, we also made time for more sophisticated activities, like when Adam and I exposed our bare, flour-white chests and jumped in the frigid ocean, or when we lingered in an Arcade for longer than people with college degrees ought.  The whole weekend was an exercise in reconnecting with the youth that we routinely bury beneath hundreds of layers of stress, responsibility, and soul-sucking appointments.  It felt good to let it all out again.  We flew kites, we rented bikes, and we ate enough sugar to make us sick.  At one point I could be seen running (maybe more like prancing) down the Virginia Beach Boardwalk, and Olivia kept calling to me, "Jack, people are looking at you!" 

What's to be embarrassed about?

Showing them how it's done.

I always thought it was tacky and somewhat inhumane when people dressed up their pets.  But that's other people.