Wagging It

The kids and I wet our feet (me, in my best beach denim).

“There’s a beach!” said Tracey, pointing out the window. I looked out just in time to see the merest hint on sunlit sand between the trees and bushes before it was gone. “Find a park.”

Easier said than done. Noosa was packed with flashy cars. I wasn’t even sure we would be allowed to park on Hastings St in a clapped out, twenty year old Pajero. Surely they had ticket cops and tow trucks ready to pounce on any vehicle threatening the property prices.

We’d driven all the way through the shopping district and were now weaving amongst the trees at the spit end.

“THERE!” yelled Tracey. She was grinning. “This is great! The beach is just through those trees.”

We started extracting the kids.

“Where are our swimmers?” asked Miss9.

“At home in your cupboards,” I told her. We didn’t intend coming to the beach. We intended taking the kids to a museum up the road which I was assured would keep our kids amused for three hours with its hands on displays and treasure hunt (silhouettes on a photocopied sheet of paper). While enjoying the treasure hunt, our kids were done in twenty minutes. “We’re just going to kick our feet in the water.”

“I need to pee,” said Miss9.

“Can you hold on?”

“No.”

“I need pee too,” chimed in Miss3.

Fortunately, there were lots of bushes and trees. I’m so sorry, Noosa. I swear I told them all to go before we left.

Once we’d watered the local flora we headed down to the beach. It was the river side of the spit, with calm water the kids could splash about in.

“Doggy!” yelled Miss3.

“Yeah, look at the little white dog,” said Miss6.

“No. That doggy,” said Miss3, pointing at a completely different dog.

“I didn’t know people were allowed to have dogs on the beach here,” said Tracey.

We rounded a bend and discovered they most certainly could. There were at least a dozen dogs running around on the beach and in the water with their owners.

“Do you think it’s a dog beach?” I asked Tracey. “Do they even have those?”

“Well according to that sign they do,” said Tracey, indicating a ‘Doggy Beach’ sign.

“No wonder I got a car park.”

On the bright side, as I watched a Labrador take a dump by the waters edge I felt a lot less guilty about my kids urinating about the place.

So we headed over to the ocean side of the spit and let the kids gather up shells and kick water at each other and generally race about like the pack of feral dogs they are.

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3 Comments

  • We were supposed to go on holiday with my bestie and her son to Tin Can Bay in October , she can’t go now she lost her job 🙁 and I can’t take 2 kids alone . So it’s shelved but it looks so beautiful , on the wish list now for sure. Unless of course my husband decided he did want to travel , I’ve as much hope of that as a lotto win .

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