Weebles at the beach

Sitting on the beach, we have found, is very entertaining. We particularly enjoy watching the short, two-legged creatures wobbling around on the hot sand emitting little squawks and cries, looking for handouts, eating sand when that fails.

I refer to toddlers.

Toddlers are like the Weeble toys, wobbling around but never falling down for long. Although when they do fall, they are highly likely to cry, which I do not remember the Weebles ever doing. A Weeble is very stoic.

But toddlers are sturdy, and possessed of a self-assurance that convinces them they can catch seagulls, if only they chase them around long enough. And chase they do, in their characteristic lumbering gait, which is exaggerated on the shifting terrain of the sand. All the adults look on, unaware that they are slightly leaning this way and that, mimicking the toddler's lumbering, as if their motion might somehow prevent her inevitable fall. 

And there is the inevitable toddler hat. All toddlers, it appears, must be outfitted with an extremely adorable hat, with a wide brim and little straps enveloping their adorable, fat chins. We did see one toddler who bucked this hat trend by sporting a bright yellow bandana on his head, which kept threatening to slide down his face and become a neck scarf.

We watched one toddler, not quite able to walk by himself, nevertheless traverse the great gulf of sand from the water to the boardwalk with the help of an extremely patient adult. The distance must have looked to him like a transatlantic crossing, but he was undaunted. Plus, there were birds.

The Hero and I found ourselves becoming tired just watching him, as if we were making that great trek with him. We closed our eyes to rest, occasionally waking up to look around for him, and the toddler would still be making his way across the Gobi Desert, veering off now and then when a seagull lured him into a game of chase. He finally made it to firm land, never having caught one. 

Maybe tomorrow.