The Boys of Sunset

As I mentioned in the previous post, the first thing Kiernan and I did after checking into our place in San Clemente was head across the street to the beach. Actually, that's not entirely true. First we tried to get Kiernan to take nap. He did not go to sleep. I guess I can't blame him.

In order to give Mommy a couple hours to get some grading done, we boys decided to hit the beach ourselves. It was late in the afternoon, so we didn't bother changing into our swim suits or anything. I just grabbed the camera and we headed across the street.

After dropping our shoes off underneath the closed lifeguard stand, we headed down the beach. Kiernan just took off, following the tracks that one of the jeeps that the lifeguards use had made in the sand. Every now and then he would leave the track to go and chase some birds.
This would be a recurring activity for this trip.

We spent some time exploring the beach, checking out the shells and the huge mounds of seaweed that had washed up on the shore ("What's that, Daddy? What's that, Daddy?"). After awhile Kiernan started back the way we had come. We ran into another father and son, and older version of ourselves, playing one of those paddle ball games people play at the beach. The man stopped to hand his paddle to Kiernan and I helped him hit the ball back to the man's son. Then I said, "C'mon, Little Man, let's go." The guy with the paddle laughed. "That's what I still call him," he said, indicating his own boy, who was probably around twelve. "Little man."

I said, "Yeah. I'm not in any hurry for that to stop."

"You and me both," he replied.

Kiernan and I continued back toward the pier, which was still a good ways in the distance. Kiernan said, "I want to go play with those boys." I squinted. I couldn't tell what he was talking about, but we pressed on. When we were almost to the pier Kiernan sprinted ahead to a little boy who was lying down in the sand, tying long thin strands of seaweed into a rope. He looked up, saw Kiernan, and said, "Hi!" I would later find out from his mother that he was six years old.

He popped up to his feet, gathered his seaweed rope, and said, "Come on!" Kiernan followed him to a big pile of seaweed on the other side of where his family was beached and the two boys set about the task of untangling seaweed.

I stayed close, but out of earshot, letting the two boys play. It was so cool seeing Kiernan just dive right in and start playing with another kid without any prompting or help from me. The only time I had to intervene was when Kiernan started to throw sand. The other boy looked past him at me, as if to say, "Are you going to handle this?" I came over and cautioned Kiernan to stop and that was that.

A little while later Kiernan took off for the pier. The little boy kept working at his seaweed rope task, so I followed Kiernan. Once under the pier Kiernan turned, saw me, and said, "I want Andrew to follow me." Without any solitication from me he had introduced himself to this little boy, found out his name, and remembered it. This is a simple task, but it struck me as a giant step.

Life is full of these kinds of moments these days. Things that seem so simple, but are nevertheless fascinating little achievements for a toddler.

Kiernan went back and played with Andrew some more. Everything Andrew did--flopping on his back to do a sand angel, trying to do a back roll in the sand, making weird little trenches with his head--Kiernan wanted to try. I was happy to sit at a distance and let him play along, at least until Andrew and his older brother ran over to the aforementioned closed lifeguard stand, climbed the steps, and jumped off.

I guess you have to draw the line somewhere.