On the beach, we were

I forgot to mention:  Sunday turned out to be lovely.
We drove to the coast at around 10h30, there at 11h30, and the Beastie Boys hit the beach.

First, the husband had to drag them back to the real beach, the one NOT behind the restaurant and fenced off with barbed wire.

Son#1 took to the dunes and quickly made friends.
He's good that way.

Meanwhile, Son#2 went galloping through the waves - jumping over each wave as it came in - in his swim shorts and t-shirt while the rest of mankind on the beach were covered in jackets.
After a while Son#1 joined in the fun. 

People stopped.
Stared.
What kind of parent would let their children hop around in the waves - unsupervised - in shorts and 14 degrees?
I was watching from the restaurant's terrace, just in case you think I really suck.  

Son#3 kept me company while I sipped hot chocolate (as was my intention) while the husband did all the hard work.

Eventually I even palmed Son#3 off to the husband's capable hands and then proceeded to order wine.

Bliss.
If one does things, one should do them well. 


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