Sand in your crotch

Yesterday Paul, Mr 3 and I went to the  beach.  I love going to the beach. It’s free easy entertainment for Mr 3 and it’s super refreshing on a stinking hot humid day.  You know what would make the whole experience even better? No fucking sand.

Anyone who goes to the beach with kids will tell you that you find sand in the strangest places for the longest time afterwards.  It gets everywhere.  On everything.  IN everything.

As soon as we tell Mr 3 that we are off to the beach his little cheeky face lights up like a Christmas tree and that means we must go to the beach RIGHT THIS SECOND which would be awesome IF we didn’t live a 25 minute drive from a decent beach. First world problems and all that.  We pack the car up, put swimmers on, take more towels than can sink a battle shit and load all of the sand toys in as well.

Usually I don’t get completely into the water, not wanting people to think a beached whale has washed up and have a full scale Greenpeace mission turn up at the beach.  Yesterday however I decided it was too stinking hot to do the usual up to my shins in the water and took the plunge (literally haha). Oh my I forgot how awesome it is to sit in the water and enjoy the waves crashing over you.  What I forgot was the salt encrusted hair (people actually pay to have their hair to be like that) and the sand in the unimaginable places.



Mr 3 had decided to roll in the sand so was covered from head to toe in sticky sand.  Paul took him back down to the water to wash him off a bit before putting him in the car. Mr 3, like most little boys though is a giant magnet for dirt. He managed to fall over and cover himself in sand again.  We gave up at this point and just wrapped him in a towel.  There was fucking sand in all the fucking places.

I thought I had managed to escape the sand in all the places, that was until I got home and took my swimmers off.  All of the sand from all of the places was in all of the places of my bathroom floor.  I had a nice bumpy, grindy fake tan from one end of me to the other.  There was enough sand to fill a small sandpit.  Like I said, it was in all of the places.

I would totally live at the beach if it wasn’t for all of the sand.

Do you love the beach? Would you be happy to ditch the itching in all the places sand?

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