No Friday in Photographs. Oh.
Mini-pear had her last day of camp and Mr. Pear took the day off work. While sharing photos of the afternoon's activities might have driven some traffic to my little forlorn and lonely corner of the internets, I'd like to keep things relatively family friendly. Earlier in the day, we took the dog for a beach walk, Mr. Pear got stung by a scorpion (!), we tried a new place for lunch (good food and ocean view - who knew?) and frolicked in the deeper surf sans little Miss. Grippy Hands.
So, swimming in the ocean here just doesn't compare to swimming in the ocean there. For one thing, the lifeguards here seem to take their job a whole lot more seriously. That makes a relatively inefficient swimmer like myself a whole lot more comfortable. I'm still not going to go crazy way out in the surf though. And there was that whole "getting caught in the riptide" episode a couple of summers ago that practically hammered the concept of a healthy respect for the water deep into my little brain.
Back to the lifeguards. I don't think I ever remember seeing an east coast lifeguard charge off into the surf. Not a single rescue attempt in years of summer time beach going. Here, they go in often enough that I've lost count. When the beach is especially busy, they have a guard stationed out past the surf on a waverunner, as well as the guards manning the towers. It's great, except I think it's lulled some parents into assuming they can nap on the beach or be completely engrossed in their beach book, because we've got exceptionally well trained lifeguards looking after the kids.
Twice over the last couple of days I saw lifeguards rush out into the water to pull in kids who were having trouble. We sat on the beach watching the whole operation. It takes a while, you know? Then we noticed that there were no corresponding adults anxiously waiting on the sand. This would mean that whoever is with those kids isn't even glancing up once every ten minutes to check on the whereabouts of their children. The guards sometimes look around once they are back on the beach, perhaps hoping a parental until will at least come and ask them about what happened, but nothing. The kids catch their breath and go right back out.
Don't get me wrong. I'm over the moon about the lifeguards. I go in the water myself way more often than I ever did. My comfort level has adjusted itself to their presence, but I'm always aware of the fact that I am not a strong swimmer. On Saturday, mini-pear kept looking over at me, gauging my response as she furtively put some distance between us. When we go to the beach on our own, she can go in up to about mid-thigh on her own. When I'm in the water with her, she's never more than about six feet away. It's a continual dance as the tides pull and push at us, to maintain a distance that would enable me to hold onto her at a moment's notice. It's a lot of work and I have to watch that I don't suck the joy right out of the whole experience. So on Saturday, it was immediately obvious to her that things are different when all three of us are in the water. We're further apart, we go a little deeper, mom isn't continually reminding you to "move closer, mover closer".
