I looked at my son this morning and realized he’s almost two years old! It amazed me because I honestly thought I would die before I had a child. Not that I didn’t want children, but I thought I couldn’t do it. I thought I couldn’t raise a child. But I must say, I’m a really good Dad.
Anyway, today was his first beach day.
Now, he’s been to the beach before but we thought he may have erimikophobia; a fear of sand. For as long as he could walk, he’s never been too fond of sand. His first time at the beach was about a year ago. Everything was all good until his little feet touched the sand. Now, I don’t know if it was the feeling of sand or maybe it was too hot but ever since that day, no matter where sand was, he wasn’t stepping in it. It didn’t matter if it was at a playground or in a backyard, if the ground was covered with sand he would politely say “Up”, which for him means “Pick me the F up and don’t let my feet touch this stuff.” But yesterday, we had a breakthrough.
We got to the beach. Layed down some towels and sat back, watching him cautiously, preparing for a freakout. He walked across the towels, until he got to the edge. Stepped his toes across the threshold and into the sand. He jumped back, but didn’t cry “Up”. He gathered himself, ate some gummy bears and refocused. He walked to the edge again. This time two feet. He stood there. Jumped back on the towel. Looked at us (mommy and daddy) for reassurance. “Go. Its ok,” we said. “No”, he said, but thats because he doesn’t say, “Yes”. Because before you knew it, he took off across the sand. Toward the water he went. Toward the beautiful, blue, Miami waters and he stopped turned around as to say, “One step at a time. I don’t know about the blue stuff.”