Princess Diva at the Beach
Grandpa in late 2012
She is our
darling beautiful little Princess. She is also a raging diva.
pleases her, least of all me. Her favorite person in the world, perhaps,
is a grandparent, but I definitely ain't the one.
I take her from
her stroller and leave it on the strand and descend with her to the beach.
Her brother PJ, age 5 nearly, is blissfully wading in the surf. My Lady
his Grandma is playing on the beach.
angel, just turned two, does not care for the ocean. Neither does she want
me to sit with her on the seaside rocks. Also, she does not want to be set
upon the sand. The parameters become quite obvious:
(1) There is no
place on this globe that is an acceptable option upon which to plant
her two tiny feet, and
(2) She does
not wish to be carried.
If I violate
either of these two simple rules, she lets me know at an astonishing
volume for such a small tyke. I stride off with her up the beach. Perhaps
the terns rooting at the verge of the tide might interest her, or the
surfers, or the white sails in the bay? No, no, and no.
Up the beach,
turn with the cove and back up the hill to Shoreline Park. Following, Lady
tells me they have left their shoes where PJ was playing. But to me,
picking up light and uncomplaining objects seems trivial. I forge ever
When I want to
shift darling Mei from my right to left arm to rest, she complains. When I
reverse in a few moments, she complains. While I remain as I am, plodding
forth, she complains.
about a week, we arrive back at the stroller. Our Princess is content to
settle in and be pushed. She is quite drowsy.
Lady goes down
the stairs for the shoes. PJ falls into step beside me as Lady pushes the
little Sweetie towards home.
are so very patient," I say. I don't mean to compare, but he catches
the reference. He comments, almost in reverie, as we walk:
going to be smarter than me ... Lots of people are ... I just can't think
of their names right now."
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