What is it about a beach full of rocks that holds our fascination? Is it the potential of finding a "pretty rock" (Sydney's favorite) or fossil (AJ's goal)? Or the wonder of holding a small bit of stone that has potentially traveled thousands of miles and existed since the ice age?
When I was a kid, it was a big treat on Sunday afternoons to walk with my Dad down to the Mississippi River in search of agates. I think the odds of finding agates and other rocks worth keeping were better there than on the much scouted shore where Lake Superior touches Canal Park. But that hasn't dampened the enthusiasm of my young rock hounds.
After work this evening, I treated the kids to dinner at Dairy Queen, followed by a walk to the Lake. Our friends Addie and Lily joined us on what was to be a rock throwing expedition. Walking along the Lakewalk, AJ and Addie proved they are on the same scary 7-year-old wavelength, laughing hysterically at each other's jokes, most of which had me confused and trying to figure out what was supposed to be funny.
"I'm not a bulldog, I'm a chihuahua!" (or something like that) brought on giggles every time. You know it's got to be funny if my UMD Bulldog hockey fan thinks it's good humor to shout that he's not a bulldog.
At last we reached a place where the kids could make it down to the Lake. Once there, the kids picked up and hurled a variety of rocks into the chilly water.
But ultimately their interest turned from throwing rocks to finding them. And putting them in their pockets. And my pockets. And my purse.
Sydney's bedtime prayer tonight included, "... and thank you for helping me find my pretty white rock for my rock collection..."
Meanwhile, AJ ranked the experience as his favorite part of the day.
Simple pleasures are the best! Especially when shared with friends.
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