The beach was begging to be strolled. Hand in hand.
We patiently waited until the girls were in bed.
(Beach bed time - 7:30!! Yay for getting worn out by sand and waves and wind and sun!!)
Then we headed out, leaving the slumbering girls behind.
(This is why you should always rent a beach house with friends...)
By the time we made it down the beach, however, our sunset walk turned in to a moonlit stroll.
No problem. This is why we packed the flashlight.
Still romantic, right?
WRONG!
Yes, the beach version of my worst nightmare was out to meet us.
And not just one. Oh no.
By the time we had made it 50 yards, we had seen 20 or so crabs.
Scuttling, scurrying, and clicking, clicking, clicking their little claws.
Their bodies glowing white in the light of the flashlight.
So much for our romantic walk.
I was a screaming, fit-pitching, tear-streaked mess.
I made Michael carry me back to the house.
Screaming and boo-hooing all the way.
It was like all the worst elements of Fear Factor and confront-your-worst-fears-for-a-million-dollars Amazing Race moments.
Only we weren't racing for a million.
And even if we had, Phil would have had to come find me, huddled up somewhere in a fetal position, crying and rocking and shutting out the world, to eliminate me from the race.
I seriously got freaked out even posting these pictures.
(Crabs = spiders - thus my "beach version" of my worst fear)
We patiently waited until the girls were in bed.
(Beach bed time - 7:30!! Yay for getting worn out by sand and waves and wind and sun!!)
Then we headed out, leaving the slumbering girls behind.
(This is why you should always rent a beach house with friends...)
By the time we made it down the beach, however, our sunset walk turned in to a moonlit stroll.
No problem. This is why we packed the flashlight.
Still romantic, right?
WRONG!
Yes, the beach version of my worst nightmare was out to meet us.
And not just one. Oh no.
By the time we had made it 50 yards, we had seen 20 or so crabs.
Scuttling, scurrying, and clicking, clicking, clicking their little claws.
Their bodies glowing white in the light of the flashlight.
So much for our romantic walk.
I was a screaming, fit-pitching, tear-streaked mess.
I made Michael carry me back to the house.
Screaming and boo-hooing all the way.
It was like all the worst elements of Fear Factor and confront-your-worst-fears-for-a-million-dollars Amazing Race moments.
Only we weren't racing for a million.
And even if we had, Phil would have had to come find me, huddled up somewhere in a fetal position, crying and rocking and shutting out the world, to eliminate me from the race.
I seriously got freaked out even posting these pictures.
(Crabs = spiders - thus my "beach version" of my worst fear)
