Atlantic Ocean: II

Political views expressed in a Rehoboth Beach playground public bathroom.

Here at my Delaware beach, my next-door neighbor’s Internet connection is a bit wonky, so I must type this into another sort of document and await a stronger signal. I have to say it is a different experience writing into a doc rather than a blog portal – less of a sense of immediacy and no photo to drive what I’m writing. Not much different than jotting some ideas down on a napkin in a diner, except I had to make my own coffee.

I’m awake at 7:32 in the morning because Mimi was making some racket a half-hour ago. Pee pants. I gave her some cookies and milk and now things are silent again. She totally worked with me to keep it quiet so Beenie wouldn’t feel like she had to get up, too, though I did hear some unconscious whimpers from her pack-n-play — the extremely un-sturdy bed of toothpicks we use as a travel crib — ready to collapse any second. Frankly, I’ll be surprised if they stay intact for the remainder of this trip. Those girls shake and jump in them like they are their cribs. I am also amazed their cribs have not completely disintegrated, considering they are on the flimsy side of recalled. Again, it is a miracle they still stand. My question is: what the heck are we gonna do when they are done with their cribs? I shit you not, they jump up and down in them like they are trampoline arteests. Really. Mimi gets some super-human wind beneath her as she flies higher and higher like a crazy little bird. Beenie is too tall to be scary jumping in her crib, but she makes up for that by being able to climb into it at night. Which means she can probably climb out of it, too. I’m not going to think about when they get big girl beds. Not now. This will be our last vacation with them in contained boxes and diapers, I bet.

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