It was another beautiful day in Sunny San Diego so we decided to head for the beach again.  I love that Kamryn is only in school for half the day so we can spend our afternoons as we see fit.  It’s also Stress Awareness Day and what better way to give the stress in my life the finger than to sit and listen to the ocean waves?

I had all of our belongings laid out, the kids were playing in the sand and I had just opened my book when a woman sitting 10 feet away got out a small box of Cheerios.  Before I go any further, let me just say:  I do not like when my days at the beach are fucked with.  I don’t care how many other people in my vacinity, I expect that you do nothing to disturb me whilst I lay in the sand.  Kamryn and Rory play for hours with very little interaction from me when we are at the beach so if someone is screwing up the good thing I have going on, I get a little irritated.

The minute this woman opened up the plastic inside the Cheerio box there was a flock of seagulls (the only thing worse would have been the band) screeching and flapping all around me.  Rory likes chasing seagulls.  He runs after then and screams “MA-KAW!  MA-KAW!”  but I think even today there were a few more than he was used to.

The Cheerio lady got up and started walking closer to the water.  The seagulls followed and Rory was close behind still screaming “ma-kaw” when I saw him pick up a rock.  I immediately yelled his name and was scrambling to stand up.  I was laying on my stomach so I had to make sure “the girls” were in their proper place so as not to slip a nip to all the beach goers.  He probably couldn’t hear me over all the seagull squawking, but he didn’t even flinch when I yelled.

I eventually got to my feet and ran over and grabbed Rory’s arm that held the rock.  I may have been in a bit of shock and possibly even a little scared at the sight of my son cocking his arm back to launch a sizable rock at a harmless bird.  I told Rory that he could not throw a rock – EVER!  Not at a person, not at an animal, not at a plant.  No rock throwing!  I don’t think I was making a lot of sense.  My circuits misfire when my emotions run high, but my tone was getting my point across and Rory started to cry.

He was trying to plead his case, but I wasn’t having it and told him to go sit on the blanket.  There we had a conversation about whether he would want someone to throw a rock at him.  He said he would not and I asked him why not.  In his most exasperated tone he shrieked, “It would hurt!”    My follow up question was, “Would it hurt the bird if you threw a rock at it?”  Hanging his head, he responded with “Yes.”  Oh thank God.

If you haven’t heard of the Serial Killer Trifecta, it’s the theory that if a child

1. Wets his/her bed until a late age
2. Kills or tortures small animals
3. Plays with fires

they may become a serial killer.

I don’t really believe that a child will become a serial killer if they do the above, but I certainly don’t want to be sitting in a courtroom one day and recalling the day that Rory stoned a seagull to death.