Saturday, January 21, 2012
So, my Kindergartener and I have some business to 'tend to. We have exactly forty-three minutes before we are to meet at Hula Pie Heaven for a family dinner celebrating Gramps' sixty-first. "Do you want to go surf?" "Sure Dad, but the waves look kinda big." They were. A nice January Juice was running with solid quadruple-overhead sets for a five-year-old. "I know where we can go and not have to worry about the paddleout..."
Race one coastal stoplight to the next. SUV's with bleached and bronzed yoga-moms at every glance. Plumeria stickers, surf racks, and dollar signs are not as compelling as one might think. You can keep North County.
But then we are there. Wetsuit change to the beat of the jitterbug. Chilly wind deadens against neoprene. Fins in hand, mat under my arm, boy's paw in the other. "Let's have an adventure." He says. He is on my back. I am laying on a pillow of air on the cold sea. We kick out with just over twenty minutes before we must leave. Smiles in the lineup. "What, you've never seen a matsurfer with a five-year-old on their back?"
Three quick waves down the line and a scramble back up topside. Quick change and heater on full-blast. "You ready for some of that Hula Pie, Kid?" "Yes."