Redwoods, Sand, and a Birthday
We made a whole day of the birthday — redwoods first, then the beach, cake back at the house at the end of it.
Under the trees the kid looked about the size of a thumb, a spot of pink on the path with the trunks going up out of sight. No hurrying anyone through that part.
The beach was where the real work happened. Both arms went into a sand mound up to the sleeves, the yellow dump truck parked off to one side and the castle bucket abandoned early. The sand got more sustained attention than the tallest trees on the coast, which seems about right for the age.
Then home for cake — white frosting, pink roses piped on top, and the birthday kid grinning behind it with frosting on the chin already, one hand hovering over the whole thing like a claim being staked. We got it cut before the hand landed. Mostly.