A few weeks ago we woke to gorgeous sunshine blazing through the curtains and there was really only one thing for it. We grabbed our towels and our swimming stuff (well, the kids did, they are braver than me!) and headed out to the beach.
We are very lucky that we live less than 30 minutes drive from a number of very good beaches and we opted to go to Ainsdale on this particular occasion reasoning that although we are National Trust members, Formby beach was likely to be crazy busy and we'd be better off closer to home. It definitely seems as though everyone in the North West had the same idea as us so I'm glad we went for Ainsdale in the end.
It didn't take long before the kids had stripped off and were splashing and shrieking with delight in the water. The sea was quite far out so we stuck to one of the little inlets which usually appears, although the official line from Meg was that the water wasn't as warm as she was expecting.
Talk about precious ordinary moments...
...watching the kids dash up and down the beach, wind whipping their hair, sand in just about every conceivable place but total happiness written across their faces. I really don't know whether it is because we lived in such a landlocked place for such a long time but they still adore coming to the beach and it would be their first choice for a day out every single time.
...digging my toes into the sand and tipping my head back, soaking up those rays (and hoping for a limited appearance of freckles on my skin) and listening to the sounds of happy families up and down the coastline.
...seeing one very grumpy boy (who didn't want the type of ice lolly he got...) being persuaded to come and snuggle with his nana before careering off up the dunes for another sandy adventure.
And then finally...coming back home at the end of the day, windswept and sand-whipped, rosy-cheeked and rosy-skinned, falling into bed at the end of the day completely wiped out but in the best way possible.
To me, those are the best kind of ordinary moments.