I have one requirement, and one requirement alone when it comes to the place we settle to raise our children.
We must be within a few hours of the ocean.
Is that really too much to ask?
We enjoyed a beautiful, 75ish-degree day at the beach.
Since it's difficult to enjoy the ocean on an empty stomach (totally just made that up), we filled up at "The Spot," a greasy, fattening local dive that was transported directly from heaven.
Baby likes greasy food.
I devoured a hamburger, half of Reece's death-by-bacon-cheese-and-meat burger, four thousand fries and about two shakes.
It was just that good.
Then it was off to the beach.
My girl was a bit weary of the sand, or as she called it, "snow."
The giant body of "wawa" was a bit threatening as well.
She preferred a nap on the blanket, located a safe distance from the shore.
I curled up with my Kindle while the brave, athletic members of the family started up a game of beach football.
Seriously, this is the way December should be.
I think I'm living in the wrong state.