We drag the teens and tweens out of beds each morning to walk the beach. Parents have to pick their battles. Wisdom whispers to us this is a battle worth fighting to win. Of course, they forget the missed sleep, heat, and the gritty sand, and only remember and talk about the beauty and the wonder for years.
They sit and talk about stories for hours or “write” stories, going back and forth, adding events and characters to the plot they weave together just like Lewis did with his brother Warren. I have often wondered whether I’m not raising the next set of Brontes. Maybe your grandchildren will cherish their books in a hundred years. Whatever God is planning, I’m their primary teacher, so it is wonderful to see and overhear evidence that their poetic imaginations are thriving.
It was the perfect day for boogie boards at the beach. The girls are showing the Grandparents how to play the card game Garbage.