Good Enough is Perfect

A certain 6-year old whose name rhymes with "liar-lexis" has taken to begging to go to the beach. We've done the beach thing with her. We know better than to drive any sort of distance whatsoever just so we can see this face:

OK, wrong photo. I have one somewhere of her screaming her head off because sand had the audacity to touch her toe, but I got distracted by sleeping baby Alexis. And then I got distracted by this:

Which is pretty much the same face we've seen every single time the kid has been anywhere near a beach, except that there's more screaming and head spinning involved. I wrote about her absolute loathing of all things beachy last year when we tried to spend ten minutes at Cocoa Beach.

I'm not spending hours in a car just so the kid can take one look at the ocean and then go into a brain-melting fit of misery and loathing before delivering a floating pile of vomit.

But! But! I vaguely remembered that there was a tiny little pseudo beach at Racoon Creek State Park.

Good enough.

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As we pulled up to the tiny little pseudo beach, I predicted a short stay. I left my iced coffee in the car, knowing that I would be returning to it momentarily, even as Alexis started bouncing up and down with excitement. Water! Sand! All of the things she hates!

She didn't acknowledge her thoughts on all things beachy as she threw off her t-shirt and got ready to wade into the lake. I went ahead of her, silently squicking out because lake water is one of those things that I irrationally find completely gross. It's filled with fish poop, you know.

As I turned to see if I was going to have to bribe Alexis to at least give the water a try, I realized she had wandered further down the beach.

"Would you like to play?" she asked a little girl just a bit younger than her.

One day I blinked and the kid went from terribly shy to better in social situations than I am. I don't know how that happened, but I'm glad it did.

I watched from afar as Alexis and her new friend took off into the water, splashing and laughing and swimming and generally having a great time. An instant connection was made. It was that sort of careless friendship that only young kids engage in. They don't think about What Comes Next because they haven't been hurt by Next just yet.

I settled into a spot on the sand and watched, doing nothing. It was every bit as blissful as I've always dreamed it would be.

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Bliss was disrupted by a little girl with a crown of wild blond curls. She sat atop an inner tube, purposely paddling her way towards Alexis and her most recent BFF.

"I don't think I like you very much," she proclaimed once she was close enough for them to hear her.

Social awkwardness starts early. Apparently.

I waited to see how Alexis would handle the situation, all the while preparing myself to intervene. It seemed like the opening dialogue to an after-school special about bullying. I wasn't going to wait long to find out if I was right.

Alexis' most recent BFF was the first to speak up. "I think we're nice."

Alexis chimed in, "You can play with us if you want, but you have to be nice, too."

There is hope for the next generation.

The girl with the crown of blond curls retorted, "I am nice. You are the ones who aren't."

Alexis and her most recent BFF wisely decided to walk away. They turned on their heels in a huff before storming up to me and reporting what had been said.

"Well, are you being nice?" I asked them.

"Yes!" they replied in unison.

"Then that's all you can do," I replied. "Go have some more fun over there." I directed them towards a new part of the water, far away from the girl with the crown of blond curls.

And that's what they did. They went and had more fun.

On a beach.

Without complaining.

Without puking.

Without anyone's brain melting.

Whowouldathunkit?

1000 People Wearing Fursuits and We Keep Running Into This One

To properly tell this story, I need to start at the beginning.

This is the beginning.

2010. It all started in 2010.

My friends and I were standing on a street corner during Anthrocon when a bright green and blue sabertooth cat strutted up to us, purred, and then grabbed my camera and touched some buttons.

He's still alive, proving that miracles do happen.

Oh, Skittles. You have no idea how close you came to dying that day. My Stunned Face may resemble a smile, but beneath expression there was a mountain of fury just waiting to be unleashed. NO ONE TOUCHES MY CAMERA. There's a hell of a lot of money wrapped up in that hunk of plastic and I'm crazy protective of it. I still get all oiwerjaglksdnfblakndakljds just thinking about those fuzzy paws touching it.

Fast forward a year. This happened.

 

Same cat. New victim. Skittles ran up to my friend and tackled her. 

He picked the wrong friend to accost, by the way. That woman never forgets anything. And she believes in revenge.

Which is precisely why when we spotted this at Anthrocon AGAIN this year:

She went running. She ran and she ran and she full-body tackled that furry from behind. Paybacks and such, you know?

But that's when things turned a little ... weird. As Skittles stood there stunned after having been tackled by a mom, a guy off to the side uttered some words that will forever send me into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"I'm having a bit of an out-of-body experience here."

It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying, but then he drove the message home when he said, "That's my suit."

I'm going to venture to say that it was a setup. The guy who usually wears the Skittles fursuit HAD to know he would run into us again this year. He HAD to know my friend was out for revenge. He HAD to know that he would be able to dodge that revenge if he just stayed out of the suit. His plan worked because my friend tackled the wrong person.

Right fursuit. Wrong person.

I'm on to you and your scheming, Skittles.

And now that I know what you look like, IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.

First, though, whoever was wearing the suit should probably contact me. I know where the lady who tackled you lives and I'm not above sharing her address with you.

Man, I love Anthrocon.

More Furtastic Friday