And the days begin to blur

Yesterday, as we sat perched on the rocks of the beach, Dennis and I scowled at the dozens of beach chairs that had been "reserved" with a towel, but had no occupants anywhere near the beach.  It makes us grumpy. But it seems the only way to get a place to sit is to do the same, and since Dennis probably wakes up before anyone on the island to go for his morning run, it was easily done.  We rationalized that if we grabbed just one or two chairs for our party of nine, and if we started using them as soon as the beach opened to the public, at 9:00, perhaps we wouldn't have to loathe ourselves too much.

And so that's what we did, after filling ourselves up on pancakes at breakfast. Grandma's pancakes, it pleases me to say, have been featured every morning. I'm quite in carbohydrate heaven.

Serving himself

I have to say, I get such a kick out of watching Ella and Alex select their food each meal. Sometimes it's really nice to see your kids grow up and become self-sufficient.  Ella's decided that four pieces of melon constitutes a serving of fruit, and, although she'd rather not, she dutifully loads her plate with melon at each meal.  And Alex is on a contentious health kick, coming back to the table with a plate piled with chicken breasts  fruit.  He'll point at each food, asking, "Is this heathy? Is this heathy?"  Some nights he even turns down dessert. "I want to be heathy."

Ella, on the other hand, has no such reservations. After she eats her fruit, she rewards herself with multiple scoops of gelato afterwards. But I can't say I mind: it's hard to resist bottomless gelato. Especially if you have the metabolism of an eight-year-old.

Anyway, we all burned off our breakfasts at the seashore this morning.  Ella and Alex continued their mining for sea glass: by the end of the morning, Ella reported that she'd collected no fewer than 176 pieces.

On the prowl

And Alex finally decided he was ready to splash around in the water a little.  Super-fun daddy had more than a little to do with that.

 And Joey continues to be a braver and better swimmer than any two-year-old should be.

Meanwhile, I made good use of those beach chairs, and, one by one, shivering children joined me for a break from the water.  Ella outlasted them all, kicking on her raft all the way out to the buoys.

Our hotel, the Vespera, has a sister hotel that is nearer to this little swimming beach; it was to convenient to pass up the little terraced restaurant that overlooked the beach.  And, since they served buttered noodles, we had a very peaceful lunch.

Dennis and I were feeling a little too relaxed for the kids' tastes, sated with fresh air and pivo, and so they all opted to go and play with the more energetic teenagers.  That left us adults with a restful afternoon on the terrace, playing card games and greatly enjoying our coffees and the company of friends. Oh, and I totally won Quiddler!

Ella was palpably disappointed when I picked her up from the kids club a little later: the posted 15:00 activity was "Become a prince/princess."  But, unfortunately, Ella's expectations were higher than the little crown-decorating activity they'd set up.  I think she'll be a great camp counselor some day, herself: she rattled off a dozen different ways that they could have better turned her into a princess.

There's only one thing to do with disappointment like that: we pitched her into the pool, along with the two jolly boys.  Joey, for some reason, really wanted his momma this evening, and so he and I skulked around in the waters, pretending that we were sharks, pouncing on the other kids. But then Joey decided it was more fun to be a fish, as well: he laid it out for me.  "I fish, you shark, 'kay, mom? Sharks eat fish, 'kay?" And then he scooted off, giggling, wiggling his little bottom at me, begging to be caught and gobbled up.  As Joey put it, "This is fun times."

OMG!

At dinner, one of the counselors handed me a flier for the evening's entertainment: they'd be putting on a performance of Beauty and the Beast, and then they were bringing in a magician. "He's for the kids. They'll love him." I looked at him, aghast.  There was no way I'd surrender a chance to see magic to the kids.  I'd be right there in the audience, too, thank you very much.  Magic!

Brie and the kids, waiting for the
show to start

But, no, the counselor was right: he was for the kids, and not for me.  I don't think he did a single trick that couldn't have been bought in a catalogue for under fifteen dollars. Faced with the challenge of presenting a magic show in German, Croatian, and English, simultaneously, he resorted to a stock phrase in each language.  Over and over, he exclaimed "Oh my God, "amazed at his own ability to turn a red scarf blue.  But, it was true, the kids loved him.  And I loved my coconuty rum drink, so it all worked out.

The cast of Beauty and the Beast

But before the magician, the kids were pulled into an audience to watch their counselors put on an absolutely ridiculous version of Beauty and the Beast. Alex says that he helped them make their costumes that afternoon.  Dennis shook his head at the amateur theater, but I will never disparage people who are willing to make fools of themselves for the sake of children.  I thought it was wonderful.

Each evening, before the shows start, the counselors chase around the kids on the veranda. This is my kids' favorite part: after dinner, Ella led the boys over to the little crowd of kids, calling "Come on, men, we have a cap to steal!"

Between acts of the magic show, the counselors led the kids in their dancing, but Ella preferred to run off to the play area by the front desk. When she came back for the second act, however, her eyes were wide and she was blushing.  "Mom," she told me, "One of the boys from camp just told me his friend thinks I'm pretty, and he asked if I have a boyfriend." Um, and then what happened, I asked.  "Well, I told him I'm eight!" she said.  "I told him I'm much too young for that sort of thing. He was really surprised, because I'm as tall as he is.  And he's ten. I think ten or eleven is the age of crushes. I'm not ready for that yet. I hope he's not too disappointed. It must be hard liking someone who doesn't like you back."

Well, and thank goodness for that.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, one of my little minnows, and a way-way-off-Broadway version of Beauty and the Beast.