P has started trying to spell words. In the middle of a conversation he'll repeat a word, Elton John Jets style, cock his head to the side and smile, "Benny starts with "B!"" And so does, he figured, beach :)
So it was with great pleasure that we met our dear friends at Coney Island last week to enjoy some sandy fun in the sun. True to form, P ignored his buddy for the first thirty minutes while we scoured the sand for shells and shark's teeth. He carefully toted BB in a bag to protect the little monster from the elements, announcing each and every find he made to his enclosed friend.
Then P settled into the playdate and we settled in to burying the boys. Vividly recalling Grandpapa burying Uncle Jace, (see it here) and then decorating the immobilized boy's buried body, P quipped he didn't want neenees ;) Then, still remembering last summer, he added a sand penis, just as Grandpapa had. (Awwww, the things they learn and remember ;) But two sand legs weren't enough for P, the number quickly grew to something like forty, twenty two, three hundred pretty quickly. This meant, of course, he was no longer human, and I therefore gave him sea monster additions. Benny's buried toes evolved as well; his, into a race car. The boys were quite pleased with the results, P adding a roar to his picture to give it a little fear factor.
As the little man enjoyed his warm, sandy leggings, Benny and his mum sweetly buried BB's toes and gave him some monsterish fins as well. P was thrilled.
Breaking free from his encasement to tease BB, P found the day had turned chilly and requested a return to his sandy grave. Instead, we headed home to a warm bath and the surprise of a stow away crab we had forgotten to return to the beach. P spent the remainder of his evening counting and categorizing his new shells. He became a guard at the Natural History Museum, the one in charge of the shell collection, who would sell said shells on the black market to BB - if he was interested in such a purchase....
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