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We had an absolutely amazing day yesterday. We ignored all the laundry and cleaning that needed to be done and headed out on the boat with my brother, Chad, and his family. We motored down to Midnight pass. Or what used to be Midnight pass, since there is no longer a pass to the Gulf. We set up the chairs and towels around the cooler and turned the kids loose to play in the sand and surf.

I have always found watching the kids play at the beach to be hugely entertaining and was not disappointed yesterday.

We brought along some Subway sandwiches. I gave a quarter of a ham and cheese to Madison and she danced off toward the water waving the sandwich in circles over her head. I watched her stumble a few times in the deep sand before I suggested that she sit down until she was done eating, so as to prevent her food from being dropped. She merely smiled at my suggestion, turned in a circle and pranced off toward the water, still waving her sandwich about like a flag. After about thirty seconds of splashing in the shallow water she tripped and landed on her hands and knees. She stood and examined her sandwich which was now sopping wet. I expected tears, but she was unfazed. She skipped over to where Kari and I were standing and thrust her hand out toward us.
"It got wet..." She said.
"I see. That is why I asked you to sit down until you got done eating." I said.
She thrust the sopping glop in her hand a little closer.
"It's wet." She said.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Dry it off..." She said.
"That isn't going to work" I told her.
"I wan more." She said.
"That was the last one, but there are some chips if you would like." I told her.
She looked at me, still holding her sandwich up, then looked at Kari. Kari shrugged. Madi looked back at me and seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere, turned and walked toward the cooler.
Kari and I watched her go with bemused smiles. Madison stopped at the beach bag that was sitting next to the cooler and began routing around with her free hand. She came out with a large blue beach towel. She wrapped the sandwich in the towel and started needing it like a glop of Play doh. After a moment she carefully unwrapped the sandwich. Satisfied with her work, she took it out, and dropped the towel, unceremoniously in the sand. She held up the sandwich, gave us a triumphant look and bounced off toward the water again.
On the third bounce, what was left of the sandwich slipped from her hand and landed in the sand. She froze. Stood there, knees bent, fingers splayed, just staring for several moments at her now very sandy, wet, sandwich. Slowly she bent down and with her thumb and index finger picked up the sandwich and dangled it at eye level. I could see that she was trying to decide on a course of action.
After a moment she stood and skipped back over to Kari and I and again held her meal up to us.
"It's dirty." she said.
"Yes, it's dirty." I said.
"You kween it off?" she asked.
"No, honey, we aren't going to be able to get all the sand off of there."
She frowned for just a moment, looked at Kari, then back at me. She then turned back toward the water. She pranced back into the surf, thrust her sandwich back into the water and sloshed it back and forth vigorously. She then bounced back to us and displayed her sandwich with another satisfied look that said "See! All better now!"
Just as Madi was about to shove the remains of the sandwich into her mouth Kari said, "Honey, honey, honey!" and with a mixture of amusement and sympathy explained that the sandwich was no longer fit for human consumption and should be given to the fish, because they were very hungry.

Kari and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

I was sitting out back this evening enjoying a refreshing adult beverage with my beautiful wife. We were discussing the days events when Reagan, our four year old, came out through the sliding glass door. She skipped around for a few minutes and then noticed a dead dragon fly on the ground.
"Oh! Is he dead?" She asked, looking rather hurt.
"Yes, honey, he is dead" I said.
She squatted down and inspected him more closely and tentatively prodded him with her index finger. Without taking her eyes from the dragon fly she said, "Can we pick him up?"
"Yes, you can pick him up." I said.
She gently placed him in the palm of her hand and stood up. She held it so the golden light of the late afternoon sun shown upon him and gazed at him intently for several minutes. She gently caressed his glittery wings and frowned. Madison came over to investigate and she too gently stroked the little dragon fly's wings. Reagan then turned to me and very solemnly asked "Dad, can we bury him."
"Yes, we can bury him. That would be nice. The poor guy." I said. "Do you need me to help or can you do it by yourself?"
"I can do it by myself." She said and glanced back down at her upturned palm.
Then she noticed a june bug crawling a just in front of her. She squatted down again, careful not to upset the dragon fly in her hand, and peered for a moment at the june bug. Then with her free hand she reached over and picked up a shoe and SMACKED the june bug repeatedly.
"Look, Dad! I made his blood come out!" She shrieked with delight.
"Uh huh, you sure did." I said.
Then she and Madison walked out in the yard and, after a few words, laid the dragon fly to rest in a shallow grave dug with a plastic shovel.

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