And They Rode Off Into the Sunset

I write a lot about our main beach transportation--by bike. There's a certain freedom spending a summer in a small town with a low speed limit and lots of sidewalks. At home, the kids could never ride around the block--our neighborhood is just too close to a nasty intersection--even though we live within walking distance of a coffee and ice cream shop. When we're in Ocean City, there's something kind of exciting, liberating even, about hopping on our bikes and going somewhere.

With Will on his dirt bike and Charlotte and me on my cruiser, Carter has been dutifully following behind on a smaller version of Will's bike with training wheels. Carter is the most competitive kid I have ever met and trailing behind him just kills him. Crossing intersections is hard, too. Sometimes, those training wheels just get caught on the curb and I have to maneuver my bike, with a baby in the back, while pulling a pouting Carter on his own.

We have spent the summer with this arrangement. That is, until yesterday, when Carter announced that he wanted his training wheels off. If you have ever met Carter, you know this is a child who speaks in truths. When he says that he is or is not going to do something, he means it. He is seldom rude, but matter-of-fact. Still, when he told me to take his training wheels off, I just wasn't sure.

The wheels, first of all, were on incredibly tight. I had trouble getting them off. I assigned Will to pull Charlotte around in the wagon as I struggled and struggled to remove the wheels. My fear was that Charlotte would not cooperate as Carter needed a few days of extra attention to teach him to ride his bike. Or, that I'd get the wheels off and, after falling off the bike, he's ask me to put them back on--and I wasn't sure I'd be able to.

Once the wheels were off, Carter and I stood in the back alley, as Will and Charlotte sat in the makeshift wagon bandstand. I held onto the back of the bike seat as he began to pedal. He told me to let go. I did, half expecting him to topple right over. But he didn't. He kept going. All the way around the block.

And that was that.

Of course, the event was not without drama. Carter is a dramatic kid. He never really fell off his bike, but he has problems starting and stopping. Every so often, while trying to start or stop, his bike would fall over. Carter would then throw himself over, rolling around in the grass, much to the alarm of passers by, who would run to his aid. He always gets up with his jack-o-lantern grin, never a tear. Carter made a friend of an old lady who is renting the corner house. She pulled Charlotte in the wagon while I ran to keep up with Carter. She, too, was in awe of his new-found skill.

Carter's only request of me today was to go on a bike ride. After errands and planned activities today, after dinner was the only time for us to go. As our summer comes to an end, night comes quickly. We watched the sunset as we rode our bikes around the block. Carter rode ahead as Charlotte and I trailed behind. In true Carter style, he chatted the entire time he rode. Since I was behind him, I could hardly hear him, but peppered into his conversation of one were phrases like, "I did it! I'm doing it! I'm riding my bike."

At nightfall, we pulled our bikes back into the garage. Carter pulled off his helmet, looked up at me and smiled. "I think I'm the best 4-year-old in the whole world. I can ride my bike." We think so too, Carter bear.

The Shell Seekers

A trip to the beach is a treasure hunt to us. Every time, it is so different. You never know what you might uncover. Each of us has a different prize we seek. Charlotte is happy to find any piece of shell that she can fold into her fat, dimpled hand. Carter is attracted to muscle shells these days, particularly treasuring the bivalve shells that are still intact. Will is on a constant hunt for a sea star or sand dollar, but will settle for the discovery of a horseshoe crab. I am more particular and covet a whelk shell. New Jersey's answer to the conch shell, a whelk is hard to find this time of year. Nevertheless, I keep my eyes open as we comb Ocean City's beaches.

Last week, I took the kids to one of Ocean City's beach walks. Every Tuesday and Wednesday in the summer season, the town gives guided tours down beaches in the north and south ends of the island. Last year, we attended one in the south end, at Corson's Inlet State Park. Since then, it has become a frequent destination for us for treasure hunting. This year, we went on the beach tour in the north end, near the Longport Bridge.

If you're interested in really learning about what you regularly see on a New Jersey beach, a beach walk is a great way to do so. Most of the shore towns around here have them. In Ocean City, it costs $1 for an adult, and 50-cents for a child to go on the hour-long tour. The kids get a bucket, too, which adds to the fun. As they deposit sea treasures into their buckets, the guide is able to tell them a little about what they have found.

As often happens, I got a wary eye from the tour guide when I showed up on the beach walk with my three in tow. There were two tour guides, and I heard some debate over who would take "the young ones." As we walked down the beach with the guide, accompanied by another family with slightly older kids, my boys knew all the answers to the questions that the guide asked, identifying different types of crabs, egg sacks and sea shells. With a good knowledge of the sea shore life already, this beach walk was a great way to add more details about stuff they already knew. But, at this point, Will could probably lead the tour himself. We got compliments from the tour guide afterwards, who said the kids were both good and knowledgeable.

The kids and I each picked up important pieces of information during our walk. For Will and Carter, the guide talked about the dangers of litter to both the landscape and wildlife of the beach. The children were just as interested in spotting and picking up pieces of trash as they were sea shells. For me, the guide mentioned that whelk shells have been appearing on some of the beaches on the way to Strathmere. That piqued my interest, for sure.

My friend Jen is also an Ocean City devotee and also in search of a whelk shell. Once I told her of the alleged location of whelks, she loaded her four into her car to go find some, promising me one if she was successful. She wasn't. I also loaded my kids up and scanned the beaches between OC and Strathmere. I made the trip during high tide, and was equally as unsuccessful.

Saturday, while Craig stayed home with a napping Charlotte, the boys and I headed down to Corson's Inlet with two plastic bags--one for shells and one for garbage. The beach was crawling with fellow shell seekers. Our shell bag was soon loaded with our finds--whelk egg cases, bits and pieces of unfortunate spider, sand and green claw crabs, moon snail shells and broken pieces of whelk shells. The beach was scattered with large clam and oyster shells, too, but we have moved beyond those pedestrian, every-day-shells and are on to much bigger and better. Although we still have not found a whole whelk shell, we have some nice pieces of them. And part of the fun is the hunt, anyway.

What left the biggest impression on Will and Carter, however, was the informal beach clean up we conducted. We quickly filled the bag with candy wrappers, empty beer cans, lonely, pairless beach shoes, pieces of latex balloons, a box of cigarettes. Will is a child tightly in tune with the injustices of the world, a cheerleader for the underdog, a tireless fighter for what he believes is right. He would find pieces of litter with an eagle eye and dramatically question, "who would throw their trash on this beach?" as he would toss it into the waiting plastic bag. Corson's Inlet is a state park with a "carry in, carry out" garbage policy. We don't know if the trash we picked up was left there by beach-goers or washed up by the ocean, perhaps a byproduct of the beach replenishment project in Sea Isle, which seems to be churning up a great deal--from seaweed to crabs to trash--onto the shores of Ocean City.

Regardless, we found a sizable amount of trash during our walk, including a torn up piece of tire that Will and Carter worked together to drag down the sea side. A woman passed us and smiled. "Boys and their treasure," she said. I think Will was slightly insulted. He has moved on from finding treasure to leading a one-boy effort to, as he puts it, "save the earth." He is still grieving that I made him leave a washed up pair of furniture cushions on the beach--they were just too much for us to carry.They wanted to take the trash home with us, so they could show their Dad all they collected. I talked them into a photo instead.

Our beach combing will continue as we enjoy this last week of summer. We have different missions now, though. I'm still in search of my whelk shell. Two shells would be ideal--one for me and one for my friend Jen. Will is determined to continue his beach clean up operation, one plastic bag at a time, with his trusty helper, Carter, at his side. Woe be to him who litters in front of Will and Carter. They're working hard to clean up our beaches and take it quite personally.

Sitting on Top of the World

We're exhibiting classic signs of shore addiction. Once upon a time, it was enough for us to travel down to the beach for an hour or two, stick our feet in the water, maybe dig a hole in the sand, while we soaked up the summer sun. Soon enough, we needed more to satisfy our beach craving--maybe extending our time by the ocean with a game of paddle ball and a tasty treat from the Bustard's Custards man. Now, we carry in our gear to the beach like pack mules and stay until my mom sensibilities tell me it is time to march the crew back home for dinner and bed. But still, we're left craving more. So, it should be no surprise to anyone that surfing has been added to our beach time repetoire.


Craig signed up for a surf lesson at the 7th Street Surf Shop on the Boardwalk last week. He came home spilling out tales from his inaugural surf adventure. After his second lesson, he pulled up to the house in his Jeep with a long surf board hanging out of the top, an early birthday present from me to him, saving me a shopping trip later in October. He's hooked. He sends me numerous text messages over the week, asking me about the waves and beach conditions, dreaming of his next time to surf.


Ocean City only allows surfing at designated beaches, or after the lifeguards have gone in. So, at 5:30 pm on Friday, Craig ran home from our beach outpost to grab his board to catch some waves. (You'll have to excuse me; I still don't have the lingo down.) The boys were intrigued. They each sat in a beach chair and watched. Even Charlotte thought he must be on to something. She grabbed the leash of Will's boogie board and laboriously dragged it down into the surf. Once in the water, she handed me the leash and promptly hopped on board, holding her arms out on either side to help maintain her chunky-legged balance. She's seen plenty of kids on boogie boards this summer, but never a surfer until Craig. I still am not sure how she put that together so fast.



After a few minutes of watching Craig, both boys were declaring their desire to surf, so we signed them both up for lessons. Honestly, I had never really thought about surfing before. It seemed like it would be hard and dangerous. According to Craig's surf instructor, surfing is an extreme sport. And the most dangerous part of it is getting across the Boardwalk in once piece.


Today, we all headed down to the 7th Street beach off of the Boardwalk, a designated surfing beach. Charlotte and I enjoyed sticking our toes in the 75-degree water as we waited for the boys to suit up. They soon emerged, like real surfer dudes, wearing their wet suits up to the waists, leaving their arms and chests bare. Their instructors game them some basic direction on land, showing them how to paddle out and how to balance.


Soon, they were off into the ocean, without once looking back to us for reassurance. They paddled out, with their teachers by their sides, and soon, we were watching them balance back to us on a wave. Carter soon toppled off of his board, but jumped up from the foam of the wave with a smile on his face and his arms thrown high over his head, proclaiming a happy victory. Will, on the other hand, maintained his balance and stayed on his board much longer, revealing his pride and excitement with the slightest of smirks on his face.

For a solid hour, they paddled out and surfed back in. They clearly have grasped the concept and are learning technique. The other big learning is timing. For now, their patient instructors will shove their boards into the approaching waves. But soon, I know, they will learn to anticipate a good wave on their own. What a great way to put their summer of swimming lessons to work--and what a great way to use their newly honed skill in the ocean. I've always said that someone should offer ocean swimming lessons, to teach kids how to swim in the varying conditions of the sea. And a surfing lesson seems to do just that.

Surfing does not seem a sport for the faint of heart. I had expected a tear or two, or at least a complaint, about salt water or sand in the eye, being tired, frustration at the frequent falling. But we heard not a negative word. In fact, the boys were so focused at their new task, they hardly seemed to notice us at all, save a quick glance here or there to catch our enthusiastic "thumbs ups" after a particularly impressive performance.


Once their hour lesson had ended, their instructors offered them the use of the wetsuits and surf boards for another hour, an offer the boys eagerly accepted. Craig took them out, one at a time and they continued to sail back to the shore, beaming from ear to ear.


Will is already begging for his next lesson. Carter has entertained me all afternoon with stories that start, "This one time, while I was surfing. . . "


We have often joked that we plan to throw it all in and move down to the shore full time. Surfing may just be an extension of our beach obsession, the lure that keeps us drawn to the sea. The boys are sleeping soundly now, but I know they are hearing the ocean waves and dreaming of their surfing safari as they snooze. And, as September creeps closer, we'll soon be integrated back into our regular lives, but our thoughts will be in Ocean City still. Yes, it's a true addiction--and one we can't wait to satisfy!

We All Scream. . .

Plenty of screaming goes on here. Some of it is to protest the inevitable bedtime or the required consumption of vegetables. And some of it accompanies a rousing game of "alien" the boys play with a neighborhood friend, where they save the world from imaginary outer space evildoers. But mostly, when we scream, we scream for ice cream.

Ice cream is a natural accompaniment to shore living. I can think of no better ending to a hot day on the beach than a long, slow walk to our favorite corner store for a scoop or two of a cold, icy treat. The kids agree and an ice cream trip has become a much requested--and much obliged--evening family outing.

At first, we strolled south towards Kessel's Korner, a favorite of the Buchholz family since Craig vacationed in Ocean City. Family lore has it that he would sneak home from the beach early only to treat himself to an ice cream cone at the counter--and then again when the rest of the family would head to Kessel's for dessert the same day. The Kessel's takeout window has a few things going for it. They serve Breyer's ice cream. Flavors are the usual suspects--vanilla, chocolate, strawberry--sprinkle in a cookies and cream, maybe a Moose Tracks. Kessel's has quite the popsicle collection as well, namely the Spongebob and, Carter's favorite, the "Two Ball Screw Ball." (It's funny to hear him say it--he can't say the "r" sound--so I typically ask him a few times what he wants to order, and then ask him to order it himself.) And sometimes, we're satisfied with a popsicle or two or a scoop of 'scream on a cone. But, most of all, we're a fan of the Kessel's ice cream drinks. The boys can hardly ever pass up a Kessel's milkshake. I'm a chocolate ice cream soda fan myself. It is hard to find an ice cream soda on the menu, and even harder to find someone who knows how to make one.

A few weeks ago, instead of our southbound trip, we headed north and found ourselves at Aunt Betty's Ice Cream, kin to the infamous Uncle Bill's Pancakes, on 21st and Asbury. We've been to the Blitz's Market tons of times over the summer, and even though Aunt Betty's is right next door, we'd never realized that another ice cream store was so very close.

Our trips to Aunt Betty's are done partly on foot and party on wheels. I go on foot, of course, pushing Charlotte in the stroller. The boys go on bike. Will rides ahead as I continue to give Carter guidance on riding his two-wheeler. He needs reminders that his shoes are not brakes. To stop when he gets to the street. But not to stop so far away from the corner that he can't see from side to side. To pedal. To watch where he's going. To pedal and watch where he's going. To watch where he's going and to pedal. By the time we get to Aunt Betty's, I have earned my ice cream cone.

While Kessel's is a quaint family restaurant, Aunt Betty's is just for ice cream treats. It is a narrow, little store with a nice, covered outside seating area. The boys particularly like their selection of ice creams, with Birthday Cake and Crazy Vanilla as perennial favorites. Will has never liked chocolate, so these two flavors are right up his alley. His partner in crime, Carter, has decided that he does not like chocolate now either. We don't call them the Even Steven Brothers for nothing. They bond over the fluorescent colors of their desserts, unabashedly trading licks.

Charlotte is too little to eat an ice cream cone on her own. I'm sure she wouldn't mind helping herself, actually, but it would make a sticky mess. So for now, while the boys each pick out their own treat, she has been content to share one with me. I'm not a vanilla fan myself, so we typically share a cone of strawberry, my preferred summertime flavor. I always order mine on top of a sugar cone, savoring the crunchy treat to the last bite. Up for a change, on our last trip, I changed my selection to Mint Chocolate Chip.

Given my new flavor, Charlotte has switched allegiances and now turns to her brothers to share. I'm not sure if it is that she doesn't like the mint flavor or that what the boys have seems much more appealing. She opens her little beak wide, protesting loudly if no one shares. She, too, now is a fan of Birthday Cake and Crazy Vanilla. And vanilla milkshakes. And rootbeer (pronounced "rootbeard" in our house) floats. She shakes her head and wags her finger at offers of spoonfuls of my ice cream. "No, no, no," she says, while extending her hand towards the boys, opening and closing it in a frenetic motion for more. And when they don't respond quickly enough for her liking, she screams. She screams for ice cream. . just like I scream, you scream and we all scream for ice cream.

A Month Left of Summer

I love Wednesday mornings in Ocean City. After I drop the boys off at camp, Charlotte and I head down town for a farmer's market. It seems like such a local thing to do--buying my fruits, veggies and other treats from area farmers. A lot of other people seem to enjoy the same routine, strolling down a section of the Tabernacle grounds, sturdy baskets and shopping bags in hand.

At this farmer's market, I always see one of the teachers from Carter's school. She helps out with afternoon carline, so I see her, during the school year, almost every day. In the beginning of the summer, I ran into her at the farmer's market--she has an Ocean City vacation home on the bay.

Since then, I run into her every week. We briefly chat about clams (her favorite weekly purchase) and hot pepper jelly (mine) at the farmer's market. Then, our eyes wide and our hearts heavy, we launch into our countdown until school starts. It's not something I really want to think about yet, but I realize that the clock is ticking. This week marks the end of July and once August is here, September is not far behind.

As I think about our summer coming to a close, I start to panic a little. Did we have enough fun? Did we do all we wanted? I keep finding myself reviewing a mental list of activities, making sure that we've really taken advantage of this great town and all that it has to offer.

So, this week, we really tried to cram it all in.

Monday, we met cousins Kate and Lindsay in Sea Isle for an afternoon at the beach. The evening was welcomed in with a torrential downpour, making us all run for cover. After we cleaned up and the rain stopped, Lindsay took us back down to the beach for the Sea Isle lifeguard races. Lindsay was a Sea Isle lifeguard in the past, and her brother Matt is now. At this event, lifeguards from Sea Isle, Upper Township and Wildwood competed in tests of strength and endurance, including swimming, rowing, paddle boarding and running. It was an exciting evening. Even not knowing anyone competing, it was a fun thing to watch. Will especially enjoyed watching it, especially the rowing. The ocean was rough that night, and the air was cold, making the competition that much more difficult, I'm sure. We'll definitely try to catch it again next year.

Tuesday, after camp, we headed to the Wetlands Institute. It was a nice, hot day. I had planned an afternoon at the beach, but Will was itching to get back to the Wetlands. In the aquarium, they have an empty tank, waiting for a local octopus to fill it. The boys are intrigued by this vacant exhibit. The first thing they always want to do is check to see if they found an octopus yet. (If you yourself are interested, I can save you a trip and tell you that there is no octopus yet, but they have the tank all ready for its capture.) We looked at our usual favorite exhibits and then took a stroll down the Salt Marsh Trail to the dock. The boys have gotten good at identifying the different creatures and plants along the way, remembering details that I have long forgotten. They could probably lead the Salt Marsh Safari themselves. When we reached the dock, we were lucky enough to spy a horseshoe crab running around the shallow waters of the bay.

By the time we got back to the main building, it was time for the aquarium feeding, something we've never seen before. What a treat. I'd expected an intern to throw a couple of fish into a tank and call it a day, but I should have known to expect more from this great place. One of our favorite interns, Heather, brought out a box with a turtle named Pretty Girl in it. She talked a lot about the turtle to the spectating children, explaining what turtles do, what they eat and how they know Pretty Girl is indeed a girl. Then, each child got to feed the turtle, which just involved throwing a pellet of turtle food into her container. Next, the children got to help feed a boxful of baby turtles. They feasted on brine shrimp. Finally, Heather opened up the touch tank and the kids got to learn a little about each of the animals in it, including horseshoe crabs, sea urchins, fiddler crabs and sea stars. Carter held the sea urchin, which wiggled its spines as it sat in his hands. He was thrilled. Will held the horseshoe crab, an animal that has really captured his attention this summer.

Tuesday night, we headed to the Bayside Center for a program on Arctic Ice Caps. Although a little dry for most of the children in the room, it held Will's attention. They talked a lot about polar bears and Will was full of facts and figures following the presentation.

After camp today, we went to the Ocean City Historical Museum for their drop in program. It was lead by Miss Elyse, who we met last week at the Bayside Center, and my boys were the only ones in the program today. She gave them a brief tour of the museum, with a special emphasis on the history of the boardwalk. Then, they sat down together to decorate shells with beads, buttons, glitter and pipe cleaners. They loved it. The Museum does a drop in program every Wednesday for $2 a child. We'll definitely try it again next Wednesday.

After leaving the library, we headed to the playground at 9th and Bay. We pass it during our excursions to the Bayside Center and Carter especially has been dying to try it. During the heat of the afternoon, most playgrounds are empty as area kids are soaking up the sun on the beach. The boys and Charlotte had a great time exploring every corner of this playground, which includes a digger that the boys can sit in and scoop up sand, and monkey bars that are low enough that Carter could easily swing across. Our favorite playgrounds on the island have each earned a special name from us, meaningful to only us. This playground, forever to be known as the "purple and green playground" joins the ranks of "the fish playground" at 52nd and Haven, and "the playground that used to be wooden" at 34th and West.

From the playground, we went to the Bayside Center. We've been there plenty of times in the evening for programs, as well as the Night in Venice, but never during the day. They accept donations, but entrance is free to the public. Again, we were the only people there. We've gotten to know the woman who works there and she cheerfully opened up the new touch tank for the boys. They very knowledgeably identified and handled most of the tank's inhabitants, including horseshoe crabs, sea urchins, a spider crab, a hermit crab and more. The Center also has a huge sand box full of ocean treasures--shells and egg cases of all shapes and sizes--and a huge magnifying glass. The boys loved looking at all of these familiar things under the microscope, paying close attention to the new details. In the back of the room, the kids could sit at the huge picture window with a pair of binoculars to spot birds flying over the bay. The Center also has a room of life guard memorabilia, as well as another room of ship models, but the touch tank and shell exhibits were the favorites of my crew. The beach was really windy today and this was a great alternative.

But we didn't stop here. Wednesday is $6 pizza night at Blitz's Market, a deal that can't be beat! I picked up two pies and met our friend Julie and her three boys at the 34th Street Playground (otherwise known as "the playground that used to be wooden." The old wooden climbing structure was recently replaced by several modern structures, and the old wood chips replaced by a nice, soft rubber ground cover.) We had a picnic dinner of pizza and juice boxes. The kids could hardly contain themselves long enough to sit down and eat a slice of pizza. They were soon up and running, having the time of their lives, even Charlotte. She discovered a small slide at the playground. I'd take her to the top of the slide and drop her down into Julie's waiting arms. Charlotte would wiggle herself free, and run over to me to start the process over again.

The sudden rain storm didn't dampen the fun. We moved our party indoors to Pino's, a nearby ice cream shop. The rain really started to fall as it was time to go home. We don't usually drive to this playground, but I am so glad we did today. We ran to our car, laughing at what we have started to call God's shower. The boys insist that it got them clean enough to avoid a bath.

I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring. Beach, boardwalk, activity or craft? We're all going through our mental checklist, making sure we've done it all. Yes, I love Wednesdays in Ocean City and am so glad to have a few more before summer comes to an end.

Ahoy Mateys!

We had planned on going to the Family Movie Night in Ocean City tonight. They were playing Charlotte's Web, the original cartoon version. In honor of our own little Charlotte, it is one of our favorite movies.

However, when we heard about the topic for the speaker tonight at the Bayside Center, we made a quick change in plans. Tonight, two women from the Ocean City Historical Museum delighted us with stories and pictures about pirates, shipwrecks and whalers right here in Ocean City.

Will has a fascination with shipwrecks. It started with the Titanic and has continued throughout our time in Ocean City. This area, as you might imagine, is home to many shipwrecks, the most famous being the Sindia (built coincidentally, by the same company that constructed the Titanic), a sailing vessel that was beached in Ocean City in the early 1900s. Until very recently, you could see portions of the ship from the 17th street beach. There is a pavilion on the boardwalk at 17th street, commemorating the ship, named for an Indian Maharajah. Will loves to stop here on the boardwalk and gazes into the horizon, hoping for a glimpse of the Sindia, scheming a way to dig up the old ship.

We learned more about the ill-fated Sindia tonight, with lots of pictures and maps brought over from the museum. Will especially loved the photos of the Sindia throughout the years, where we could see the ship sinking deeper and deeper into the sand.

What little boy doesn't like the lore of pirates? The boys have been inspired to dig even more on the beach, as we now know that famous pirates Black Beard and Captain Kidd probably passed through Ocean City and may have buried treasure in these parts while trying to allude authorities.

We also learned that many Ocean City residents can trace their heritage back to the Mayflower, their ancestors having journeyed down to New Jersey for whaling. A fan of Whale Wars, Will was intrigued by these stories of when whaling was a livelihood.

The presentation culminated with a craft. The speakers had shown examples of antique scrimshaw, intricate carvings made into the bone and teeth of whales. Each person then got to make their own scrimshaw by using a pin to carve a picture into a piece of foam core poster board. Once the picture was carved, the children scribbled over the surface of their artwork with crayon, and then rubbed away the excess crayon with a napkin, leaving just the "engraved" pieces colored in. The kids loved it and worked away quietly on their masterpieces.

The Ocean City Historical Museum is another of Will's favorite places and worth a trip if you find yourself with a spare 30 minutes in Ocean City. Not very big, it is filled with O.C. artifacts, including findings from the Sindia. We found out that they offer drop-in children's programs on Wednesdays, every half hour from 10:30 to 2:30. Each week, they offer a new activity for $2 per child. We'll definitely give it a try.

I'm so glad we made it to the Bayside Center tonight. We ended our trip with a gorgeous view of the sunset on the bay, a really dramatic event from the back deck of the Center. It stopped Carter in his tracks, prompting him to ask what was pushing the sun down. I'm saving the answer to that question, and the viewing of Charlotte's Web, for another night.

Crabby Kids

Thanks to our time at the Wetlands Institute in Stone Harbor, the boys have a new fascination with the water. Dip a net into the water, you almost always pull out something interesting. They love a program at the Wetlands Institute called Catch of the Day, where kids get to pull a seine net through the water and dump its contents into a large tub where they can inspect the wonders of the bay: minnows, shrimp, mussels, jelly fish and seaweed, lots of seaweed. At times, they also give each child a hand net. They love to sprawl on their bellies on the wooden dock, purposefully scooping out the bay's treasures to inspect. Will, surprisingly, is not squeamish and is happy to hold a squirming minnow between his fingers.

Both boys were excited at the prospect of crabbing today. After a brief session of Internet research, Will and Craig headed to a local bait and tackle store to buy some traps. There, they also received the lay of the land, picking up some bait and the locations of some good places to go crabbing.

So, joined by Colleen and Brian, we piled in the car and headed to our location. I’m not sure I want to tell you exactly where, since we were the only ones there to crab (we were joined by some spectators) and had a moderate amount of success.

For bait, Craig had picked up two frozen fish, which he bravely hacked right in two for a fishy set of heads and tails. There was some debate by Carter whether “front bait” or “bottom bait” would be better for catching crabs. We started with the tail section and threw our nets into the bay.

Within a few minutes, we had caught our first crab, a feisty blue claw, so angry at his capture. We used our leftover bucket of chicken container from a recent dinner at Blitz’s market to hold our crabby prisoners. Once we had a few crabs, we had to put the lid on to keep them from escaping.

After a few hours of crabbing, we had six good-sized crabs. That was enough for dinner for all of us. Will and Carter wanted to keep them, but were undecided about dinner. I believe they had delusions about having six new friends for their hermit crabs. Will had the honors of depositing the crustaceans back into the bay, with he did with one delft swing of the bucket.

We’ll go back again, probably to catch the same six crabs. We all had fun catching crabs, but am not sure we have the heart to actually eat them. We'll save our crab appetite for a restaurant, where we don't know the crabs quite so well.

When Life Gives You Lemons

If it is possible for a child to have an entrepreneurial spirit, Will truly does. His favorite thing to play is "store," and he has finally succeeded in training Carter to join him in a pretend game where they sell their toys, artwork and pretend food, at a price, to willing family members, namely, Craig and me.

Last year, for his birthday, Will asked his Aunt Colleen for a lemonade stand. And she delivered, giving him a nifty little contraption that looks like an old fashioned peddler's cart, squeezing lemons and dispensing the tart juice into cups.

He's been thinking about selling lemonade for many, many months. We decided it would be a perfect venture for him at the beach in Ocean City, where he could provide a refreshing beverage in the afternoon, just as tired-out beach goers are on the long, hot walk home.

Our lemonade stand took more planning than you might imagine. First, we took a trip to the farmer's market we like for some lemons, 2 dozen to be exact. The next morning, we went on a walk down the boardwalk, scoping out the competition. Since fresh squeezed lemonade runs about $4 a cup on the boardwalk, we knew we'd catch the bargain shoppers with our 25-cents a glass sale. Then came the actual lemonade making. Craig found a tasty recipe for the perfect cup of lemonade and made up a batch of simple syrup.(Here's the recipe:

http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/000479perfect_lemonade.php). He and Will then squeezed the juice out of several lemons and added ice, putting our poor ice maker on over drive. Finally, the sign. Will thought long and hard about his wording, finally selecting "real, homemade lemonade," illustrating a picture of his wares as well. My favorite part of his stand was Will's tip jar, his very own idea. He took one of his lemonade cups and stuck a piece of masking tape with the word "tips" written in magic market on it, something he must have picked up on one of the boardwalk stands.

We set him up in front of our house, where he immediately attracted attention. Our upstairs neighbors were the first customers, requesting a cup to be delivered to them directly. Dog walkers and bike riders also stopped. Will went through a few batches right in front of the house and, unless Craig or I was there to remind him, he conveniently forgot to offer people change. He's cute enough that people must not mind paying a 75-cent premium.

All good businessmen know that three keys to success are location, location, location. And Will is no different. Once he realized that he was missing prime business from people walking down the cross street, past his location on Central Avenue, Will picked up and moved business to the corner--his own idea. Thinking I would help him out and buy a cup, I walked down to the corner only to find him absolutely mobbed--and sold out. He was devastated since many people had said they would be back for more. Craig consoled him by explaining that another key to business is to always leave the people wanting more. As you might imagine, Will is already thinking about his next lemonade stand.

Will's first day in business was a success and he banked about $18, a pretty good profit for a few hours of work, considering he didn't even buy the lemons. There's money to be made in the lemonade business, especially if you're a gap-toothed, smiling 7-year-old. Sure, I bought the lemons and Craig helped with the actual concoction, but Will, with a little help from sidekick Carter, did all the selling himself. He sat there in the hot sun, unwilling to disappoint his customers who might find themselves both thirsty and with a quarter in their pockets just as they pass him by. I'm sure by the end of the summer, he'll have a loyal following, and some fond memories of his first real store.