Twas the night before Father’s Day and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even Charlie Browns*. My wife had packed a pile of bags and baby paraphernalia. It was all stacked and ready to go, piled in the corner of our living room. The plan was to head out early in the morning to Star Fish Point, a beautiful public beach made famous by its once abundant starfish population, and enjoy the peace before it got too crowded.
*Charlie Browns is one of hundreds of nicknames for our beloved family dog Charlie. He’s always happy to go for a walk, and often trying to speak human by grunting at us.
After unwrapping my classic best dad ever mug, and some sweet words on a card from my genius four month old, we threw the bags in the car and the family began our Cayman road trip to the North Side.
Trevor Noah’s podcast played through the car’s speakers to relax our girl while we chatted and enjoyed the beauty of the island views. White monarch butterflies decorated the land to our left while the ocean lapped at the sand on our right. Perfection.
Trevor Noah talking is the only thing that will calm our daughter down in the car. She detests being trapped in the car with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
We stopped at a beach coffee bar to grab some delicious warm chocolate croissants. I ran into an old colleague and said hi but clearly neither of us are good at small talk so it instantly became awkward. Escaping, croissants in hand, Charlie - our faithful pup - trotting alongside me, we made it to the beach.
Going to the beach with a baby is slightly more involved than going as a couple. In addition to the usual - beach chairs, umbrella, bag with books and snacks, dog bowls, Charlie trying to pee on something inappropriate - there’s also a little human who needs to be carried and kept out of the sun with her own personal umbrella.
She comes with her own paraphernalia all of which needs to make the journey from the car to our chill spot. It kind of feels like you’re the chauffeur to a famous person who refuses to do anything to help you with their things.
The famous one had fallen asleep right at the end of the journey and was not too excited about being woken up. We made camp nearer to the car than we usually would, avoiding some people who thought it was a great idea to play their atrocious music at full blast on a peaceful Sunday morning, and got ready to relax.
Our daughter had other plans. She suffers from what my wife, along with our primary pediatrician ChatGPT, have diagnosed as nap allergies. If we dare say the word sleep she begins to fuss. So instead of reading a book, holding my wife’s hand and our daughter enjoying some much needed peaceful sleep she should have gotten on the ride over, we had to initiate the aforementioned shush train.
As I paced up and down the beach rocking my daughter to sleep over and over, boat engines and obnoxious tourists repeatedly thwarting my efforts, I had a thought. It happens sometimes. Although this parenting thing can be a tough gig, being with her and helping her work through her struggles is the only place I ever want to be.
Once she finally settled and had a little nap, we were able to set up our umbrella in the water and enjoy sitting there together. Her little toes sloshed around in the water, a face filled with wonder at the salty feeling. These moments are where the magic is.
On the drive home we called her grandparents so she could loudly let them know that we had put her back in the evil car seat, and she was not happy about it. It wasn’t until Trevor Noah returned to the sound system that she was satisfied her complaints had been heard, examining her hands as she plotted her next move.