Treasure Hunting

One of our grandkids' favorite things to do, when they come to the lake, is comb the beach for 'treasures'. Since the lake seems to be down more than it's up, that works out well. We should have about 3-5' of water at the edge of our property, but we don't. We have beach.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
He was mortified to have to wear plastic bags on his feet, but alas he only had cowboy boots. Same boots that needed to be worn later that day for a family photo shoot. I promised him nobody would see him. (Don't tell him he made the blog.) 

The remnants of a gar fish. They're hard to hook because of the long, skinny snout. Got a high 'cool' rating. 

But I still told him we had to leave it there on the beach. No gar bones coming home with us. 

We took confetti eggs down to the beach, and I showed him how to crack them on his chest. I imagine someday that will be a funny mental picture for him, Grammy cracking eggs against her chest. I can't even stand how much I love this picture of that half-toothless grin. I'll love it more when he's grown up and taller than me.

Happy boy heading back to the house, treasures safely tucked into the mop bucket. Plastic bags a bit worn and we ended up having to use a toothbrush on the bottom of his boots, but Mama forgave us. 


Kelly said…
Sweet, sweet memories.

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