Cedar Key Saturday
(I will miss this sign when we move away next year.)
This weekend we took in the happy little town of Cedar Key, Fl. It's just an hour from Gville, on the gulf side. Brandon has gone with the scouts, but I had never been and I was curious.
Did you know I'm a terrible dress-for-the-trip-er? Terrible. Jeans? shorts? are we kayaking? are we lazily strolling the town? are we beaching? 76 degrees and breezy, I don't know, better put the kids in long sleeves.
We were a bit overdressed. At least those of us who adhered to my rules. (Brandon? Perfectly dressed. Disgusting.) "Better protection from the sun," he told me to make me feel better. "I'm HOT!" yelled Zane. He got to shed his shirt.
(Loved the "struttin'-their-stuff" poses here. like sister like brother.)
Brandon had warned me that there wasn't any real "beach" to be had. I said that they should just bring in some white sand to appease us tourists. We then walked up to a little city park right next to a few hundred feet of "white sand beach." Done!
The kids actually had so much fun on the play place, they didn't even look over at the water much. They know a fake beach when they see it. Snobby Floridians.
After we'd had our fill there, we walked up the tourist lane, smelled the salt water and fried seafood, said hello to one of many unabashed PELICANS:
Then stopped in for ice cream at one of the little eateries. The back deck was cool and pleasant (I was glad I was in pants, almost), and the ice cream was fine too.
We took in a little more salt water and sunshine, then headed home.
Cedar Key. Pretty nice. But I think we'll stick to real beaches from now on.
ps--Zane complained the WHOLE RIDE HOME about how long it was. all 62 minutes. He wondered why we couldn't have packed the wii for the car. sigh.
pps--In case you've wondered what kind of impact he has on his little sister: Today Annie was making magnet creations. Using mini-balls and sticks, she created what looked like a jack, or a star, or something.
"Oh Annie, what a pretty star you made!" I told her.
"Dis not a tar, dis a BOMB, mom! A princess BOMB! Dat my waydit (favorite) kind uh bomb, mom!"
Thanks a lot, 6-year-old brother.