Apple of my eye

Spent the morning on the beach. My son and I dug in the sand, waded in the water and made a temporary friend out of the 3 year old next to us.

We pack a couple of sackfuls of stuff every time we go: a large bag with dry towels (at least 5 if just the 2 of us are going), a small bag in the large bag with clean dry clothes, a mexican market bag of sand toys (buckets, shovels, dump truck, the usual) and a cooler with water, juice, fruit snacks and an apple.

Yes, an apple.
We have discovered that the sweetest thing (literally) that we do together at the beach is eat an apple. We take turns. We discuss the size of our bites, where they have come from, we even sneak two bites in if we can't help ourselves. Neither of us minds. We eat the whole thing - except the seeds. We bury the seeds under the sand, mark it with an X and dream about an apple tree someday springing up on the beach. Then we would have one less thing to pack.