Baywatch Baby

The Eastside Gang just returned from their longest road trip, with baby, yet. After our last journey out of Scott Valley (six hours, constant screaming), we were, frankly, a little spooked about leaving. So, like Bill Murray in "What About Bob?", we travelled south in baby steps. Three days later, we arrived at Pismo Beach, intact and unscathed.

Speaking, or rather, writing, for Dylan, the highlight of the trip was, hands-down, the ocean. We spent one morning checking out downtown Pismo (the pier, Moondoggies) and when it really started to warm up, we took off Dylan's shoes and turned her loose on the beach. Pismo Beach is loaded with people BBQ-ing, kids playing, and dogs catching frisbees; Dylan thought she was at the best playground in the world. She beelined for the water, shedding her clothes faster than Pamela Anderson on "Baywatch."

Did I tell you that the Pacific Ocean, even in Southern California, is cold? It is. Very. Dylan hit the water, paused, weighed the fun vs. cold scales in her mind (fun is a rock, cold is a feather) and kept on going. I think she planned on pushing a few of the icebergs out of the way to tell the surfers in their 20mm wetsuits that, hey guys, careful, the water's cold. And awesome.

By the time I put her in a pretty dress and took her to the wedding, sitting in the sun and watching people stand in front of a preacher seemed like a big letdown, even if Mommy was one of those up there. So, like all weddings I go to now, I stood far enough away to let Dylan play on the grass, run wild, and splash in puddles. I chased her around until I sweated through my only nice shirt and had to take her up to the room for a deodorant re-application. The only thing that held her attention was a blue Tootsie Pop -- I know, bad idea. It turned her tongue, face, and dress bright blue, but got her to sit still long enough for my Mother-in-Law to scoop her up and take her to bed. I didn't even want to imagine the mayhem in our room once the sugar high kicked in.

We all survived and felt so good on Sunday that we tackled the drive home with vigor. Dylan, still blue, came off her sugar buzz and slept for nearly an hour (a record) in her car seat. And when we pulled into our home on Sunday evening, the ocean was just a memory as Dylan neighed and mooed at the horses and cows on the Hanna ranch, the best playground in the world.