Baby in a Bucket

An era is ending. This is the last summer (probably) that I will have a baby in a bucket at the beach. (I say probably NOT because we might have another baby someday, but because Ben sometimes squeezes himself into the bucket even now, so it's possible Emma may eke out another year. But she won't be a baby. That's sure.)

Rachel was not a bucket baby, because we lived in Iowa when she was tiny and so never saw the beach. She had wading pools and the very shallow end of the community pool to play in. But when Julia was a toddler, she invented the bucket pool in our family. Naturally fearless, the first few times Julia encountered the ocean, she ran headlong into the surf, not waiting for me to catch up, not heeding my warnings at all. The third or fourth time she fell on her face into the salty water and scared herself half to death, she decided she'd had enough of the ocean. So I got the idea of filling our big toy bucket with water so at least she wouldn't be so hot. Lo and behold, she climbed right in! She would sit happily for hours, playing and dropping sand in with her, and floating shells and toys. It was wonderful. Especially the summer I was huge with Ben and couldn't imagine anything less fun than chasing a 2 year old at the beach when I just wanted to sit and relax.

Ben and Emma followed suit. Ben was a bit different, because until he was 4 he loathed the beach with fierce intensity. The year he was 2, he would sit in the middle of the blanket for hours, playing with his toys and occasionally complaining, "When we leaving this stinkin' beach?" Anything not to touch the sand or the water. But the summer he was 3, he happily used the bucket method to stay cool. He still hated the sand, but he had started to enjoy the water, and since we don't use an umbrella, it was much more comfortable for him. Emma took over for him last summer, when he started to venture into the surf.

It's kind of sad.... :(

Jen