Stolen: A Story

It was a perfect morning - a tri-generational girls' day at the beach. We knew it would be a memorable day.

I relished the fact that winter visits to our families mean going to the beach. I look only a little smug in this shot.

 We listened to the waves, watched the boats, soaked up the sun.

Daisy looked at shells...

...and I looked at shells.

Daisy realized that there would never be enough buckets.

Clutching her peanut butter sandwich, Daisy realized something else: she was being watched.
(See one of many culprits on her right...)

It happened. It was a quick, concerted dive on their part, leaving Daisy first screaming, then sobbing into my shirt. The seagulls - not the shells, not the boats, not the bucket - thus became the central theme of the day. "The birdies took my sandwich" can still be heard today at bedtime, in a voice full of wonder and resentment.

But, now we have our story, a memorable day at the beach. As often happens, we look back fondly at events that go wrong, proving to ourselves that we are older, wiser, and remarkably resilient. Thanks for the trip to the beach, Mom/Grandmommy.