Only my boys could find two ordinary sticks on the beach and turn them into weapons.
Can't say that I'm complaining though. These newly-discovered tools of destruction allowed me a few hours of peace and quiet to reflect on the beauty and wonder that is our Pacific. To reflect uninterrupted on the fantastic life that I do lead.
There was no whining for snacks.
No need to race screaming to the bathroom gripping our privates, desperately trying to make it in time. Seagulls became enemy soldiers. My blanket was base camp. Hannah went blissfully un-teased.
There was no fighting.
We found peace through pretend violence. How much more of a paradox can we be? I love it. Life is good.
[P.S. No seagulls were harmed in the making of this imaginary world (Chase, our own PETA representative, saw to that).]