Yesterday, we decided to go to the beach to watch the sunset with the kids, and I wanted to get some cute pictures of them playing in the sand. We surprisingly got a close parking spot, which was very nice because Mr. Whiney Pants still can’t handle too much walking on his poor wittle toe. I had Atticus in the Ergo, and Bea was in a Baby Bjorn on Monte. As we neared the steps to walk down to the sand, Monte looked at me and asked “Where are you going?” I was a little thrown off “Um, down to the shore, what do you mean?” he then responded, “I don’t want to get my (broken toe boot thing) shoe dirty on the sand” I stared at him for a moment, still confused, “When I said ‘let’s go to the beach and watch the sunset’, what part of that translated to ‘from the pier’? We always go down to the sand when we come to the beach. Can’t you just rinse the sand off the thing?” He shakes his head. “Well, take the boot off then, weirdo.” He looked at me like I was asking him to lick white dog shit on the boardwalk. Basically we both had the same look on our faces, and neither one of us was going to budge. Since we were racing the sun, I just told him to hand over Bea, and I’d trek down to the sand with the kids by my lonesome.