I sat on the beach basking in the warm, spring sun.
My five year old collected rocks.
Beautiful rocks. Black ones. Flat ones. Round ones.
They caught my attention and I decided to stack them like the cool rock towers I see when I Google images of “rock towers.”
The first few minutes of stacking them became harder than I thought. I’d get four or five stacked and they would tumble. I’d start again, and then… …the tumble.
It took me much longer than I expected to get 7 stacked, but I was proud of the work I had put into it. As I laid down in front of my rock tower to take a picture with the ocean behind it, my five year old threw a big rock and tumbled the whole tower.
I gave him an exasperated, “Duuuuuuude!!!”
He sat down to cry knowing how hard I had worked.
After we made up and I assured him I wasn’t mad, I started the stacking again.
It took me even longer to re-stack the 7 rocks, but I finally succeed and snapped the picture above.
Then it dawned on me…
