On Sunday afternoons, when it is sunny we go for walks along the beach. It's becoming somewhat of a tradition, or a ritual, or just something we do. You know, like if someone asked what we do on Sunday afternoons, we'd say...'We go for a walk along the beach.' Q with his bike, Mom with her Earl Grey Latte and me with my Hazelnut Latte. We stroll arm in arm. We sight see. We people watch. We try to guess how many people are on their very first date. We glare at all the folks in love.
Side note: One day, my employee asked if I had any plans for the weekend, and I said, "well...I'm not sure. I'll probably just spend some time with my mom."
To which she responded..."Oh, that's so nice of you! Do you take your mom out often?"
It sounded so funny to me - like my mom was in a home and I was taking her out for some fresh air. So now every time we go out, I say really loud and slowly, "DOES IT FEEL NICE TO GET OUT, MOM? THE SUN FEELS NICE, DOESN'T IT?" People must think we're crazy, because we both dissolve into a fit of giggles and snorts at the thought of it. Not to mention, I sound exactly like my aunt - who's like 63 and a Newfie...which just makes us laugh even harder.
This past Sunday, we noticed a small shop that had just opened by the beach. It was a toy store. No. It was cooler than that. It was a retro toy store. It had all the toys that our grandparents probably played with...like wooden pop guns. And the toys our parents played with, like the original Twister. It had retro Radio Flyers!! We just couldn't resist the lure. The shop owner welcomed us into the store and invited us to play games with her. I think she just has the coolest job ever!!
So, because I am the coolest mom ever, I gave in when Q came to me with a Harmonica. I gave him the money, so he could pay himself and then grimaced at the thought of the horrid noise that would be coming out of that child for the foreseeable future. I think the only thing that sounds worse than a harmonica is a recorder. Just ask my brother. When we were little, I took his recorder and hid it in my sock drawer...only to forget it there for over a year. It was a peaceful year, let me tell ya. Anyways, Q pulls it out of the retro little box it came in and I gotta say, this thing looks cool. It's shiny. It's royal blue. It's awesome. He brings it to his mouth. I close my eyes (like that will make it not so shrill??? I don't know...) and he blows.
Now, I know I'm a little biased because he is my child. Like I remember when I was pregnant with him and I thought, "Oh, what if I have an ugly baby?" and then he was born and he was gorgeous. Gorgeous. Perfectly gorgeous. So, I'm really lucky he wasn't ugly. And no, I wasn't biased when he was born either. Strangers would stop me on the street to tell me how beautiful my child was.
Back to the harmonica. My child is a prodigy. That's the only explanation. Because out of this harmonica came the most beautiful noise I have ever heard. It was like angels singing from the heavens. My mom and I looked at each other in shock (evidently she was bracing for the worst as well...) and then burst into laughter.
We walked along the beach, Q playing his harmonica, my mom and I giggling at the perfect pitch, the perfect tone, the perfect sound. As we walked by a grandmother with her grandchild, we heard her say, "Oh, isn't that wonderful?" Then we walked past a man sitting on a park bench, with his dog close by, and he whispered to his dog, "What's that beautiful sound? Can you hear it, too?"
I can't imagine a more perfect ritual.
Not one thing was missing.
Except for Molly.
But she does this nervous/excited pee thing when she meets new people. And it's really, really embarrassing.
But other than that, it was perfect.