This past weekend we went to the newly opened beach at Tygart Lake for the afternoon. Playing in the sand and swimming have recently become two of your most beloved activities, so you were in heaven. There were several other kids around us, and we all ended up sharing our sand toys.
At one point you were contentedly filling up your little bucket with water and sand, and a little boy about your age walked up, dumped out all of your work, and then kept moving. You really didn't protest or complain; you just set about filling it up again. But a short time later while you were filling your watering can along the water's edge, the same little boy returned. This time his lips were puckered, and he was heading straight for your face.
You bolted. You ran straight for the beach chair where I was sitting and weren't even fazed when you face-planted in the sand. You jumped up and kept running toward me, crying, "NO!" The boy stood watching your rapid departure, and his mom called to him, "Honey, she doesn't want your kisses! Give them to mommy!"
I didn't blame you one bit. That kid has a lot to learn about girls.
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