by Jennifer Ryan
My husband, MC, was fresh off a “guys’ weekend” in Key West with a few vacation days to spare. I briefly considered taking A-bug to the beach myself, but MC begged me to wait. A-bug had never been to the beach, and MC wanted to join us. On Friday morning, we loaded A-bug and our swimsuits into the car and drove two hours south to Galveston. As soon as A-bug saw the sand and ocean, he squealed with delight. We were momentarily sidetracked by our grumbling tummies. We had already paid to park, and the only restaurant within walking distance was McDonald’s. We walked to McDonald’s, grabbed a quick bite, and changed in the bathroom. I know. Gross. Then, we headed back to the beach. A-bug had a fabulous time running into the waves and building sand castles. The sun was warm. The water was cool. We spent almost three hours at this little beach. The best part of our day? Watching MC’s face twist in disgust, as A-bug projectile vomited saltwater and hamburger all over his arm.
You can’t buy memories like that.