Tuesday, October 8

The beeeeeaaaaaaaaach! And Noah's latest shenanigans.

Remember the time Noah took a motorcycle class "for fun" and I'm like "but it's not like we have the money for one anyway"? Well. Guess who got on Craigslist. Guess who used the lure of a quick Wilmington trip to get me on board. Guess what's now sitting in our driveway.

Nighthawk.

Father and son, united in their defiance.

Hint: The biggest one.

*   *   *

Fall weather = win, but great random weather for our one-day beach trip? Colossal win. I'm a California kid at heart and by heritage, so going to the beach is restorative for me. It was in the 80s! To think, this was me three days ago:

I can no longer blame the baby. Now, it's just ice cream weight.

Aww, look how happy I am! How relaxed! And check out those "beachy waves"! All beauty magazines are liars. LIARS.

And this was Ethan:



Guys, Vacation Ethan made a full comeback. (To learn about Vacation Ethan, click here and here. Trust me, it's worth it.) It started about 5 minutes after Noah got back from picking up his motorcycle. We'd been splashing around in the pool, but it was finally time to go to the actual beach. Ethan, though, preferred to stay at the pool. At the Hampton Inn. Kid just didn't know. But obviously he quickly got over it, because he remembered the beach is awesome.



Oliver agrees:

Twas a veggie straw. And also probably some sand. Sand was eaten.
The problem started when we went back to the hotel to "quickly change" then go out to dinner at this ridonkulously good restaurant, Indochine. (Which we knew about from the last time we went to Wilmington.) Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the Hampton Inn. In fact, I stay there exclusively.* We have the same kind of pillows on our bed as they have at the Hampton Inn**—that's how far this goes. But Ethan? Ethan did NOT want to leave that Hampton Inn. He did not want to put on clothes. He threw a fit.

*With few exceptions: Disney properties, and any ritzy hotel someone else chooses to put me up in.
**Pacific Coast down pillows

So then we went to Indochine, and it was delicious/da bomb and the waitress was great and we even miraculously were seated outside near two little kid-size pagodas with picnic tables under them, where Ethan chose to take his appetizers.

See the lil pagoda behind them?
Noah sat with him back there briefly while I watched Oliver throw cabbage and pad thai on the floor, then they rejoined the main table, where Ethan proceeded to belch extremely loudly and repeatedly. Noah threatened him, Ethan crossed his arms, stuck his nose in the air, and made his cheekiest face, and I was lucky enough to catch it on camera. (See above.)

As always, the real Ethan peeked through in some wonderful moments.

Writing his own name. Which I taught him how to do. SHAZAM.

Then, there's this guy:

Just look at this baby. (Drops mic.)

6 comments:

Jenn said...

Wait. So... I can't still claim this as baby weight at 18 months postpartum? Then what is it? Pizza weight? Chocolate weight? A food baby? Yes, a food baby. So ifsofactso, it's still technically baby weight. (You look great btw and very carefree for being at the beach with two kids!) Also you are like a personal hero to me, taking children to a sit-down restaurant and all.

The Bug said...

A man at my church decided to pursue the motorcycle dream too. He took his classes this past weekend & is doing his internet searching even now.

That baby is TOO CUTE, but Ethan is pretty adorable too.

Tracy said...

OK...I know I am a complete stranger reading (and now commenting) on your blog, but I so adore your writing and sense of humor. I went back and read your Vacation Ethan posts and I'm beginning to think our sons were separated at birth. We went to Disney in June and after weeks of talking about how much he wanted to meet Pooh and Tigger, I literally (yes, I have photographic evidence) had to hold him up for a picture with those two. He didn't cry or scream...he just feigned sleep while I held him up under his armpits. Ah...five-years olds...

Unknown said...

I adore that picture of Oliver with the veggie cigar. He looks like a baby from the 1800s. Also, he is amazing.

Alison Presley said...

Whoa! I left a comment on your blog and it actually appeared! The vendetta must be over. I'm the "unknown" above...

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