I had this all planned out - how the kids would romp and play and have a terrific time (like last year) but it didn't quite work out that way.
It was freezing at our house. And dreary. After a long debate about whether or not the festival would even be held on such a miserable and cheerless day, I bundled the kids up and we went anyway. And, of course, as soon as we drove into town the sun broke through, the sky cleared and it turned gorgeous.
But still cold.
There was a good turnout for the festival - lots of wonderful kites. Many happy people. This was going to be fun!
Breathing in the (lovely) salt air, I unwrapped our kites and discovered that none of them worked. (damnit)
I had three. And none of them were complete.
I was down on my knees in the sand trying to figure out how to make one kite out of three when two co-workers of mine and their gorgeous boys arrived.
Immediately, one of them came over to see how she could help. My friend R is quite crafty, you see, and can Figure Things Out - an amazing thing to (impatient old) me, who was contemplating snapping all the bloody sticks in half and tying the smallgirlchild to the string. (Hmph. Wonder how high she would have flown?)
So, with CraftyWoman's help, we did this: (and bless her)
look! up in the sky! it's a bird! it's a...kite!
There was a great deal of running and playing by Cass, especially with the other boys, and a good amount of this:
get those tootsies in the sand...aaah...
But Rosey was having none of it. Hunched inside her hooded sweatshirt, she trudged up and down the beach after Bear, pleading to be picked up and making it entirely obvious that she was missing her bed and her nap and why were we here, again? By the time we took pity on her and left she was snuggled on B's shoulder and sleeeeeepy.
Maybe we'll try again next weekend.
This time, I'll put the kites together before we get to the beach.