Warm Cake In The Bathtub

We just spent a long weekend in Santa Cruz at the old beach house that James’ parents bought back in the 50s. Now a multitude of kids, grandchildren and great-grandchildren trade weekends and track sand and collect freckles a stone’s throw from the harbor lighthouse.

Beyond the obvious serotonin-related benefits of spending three days in the sun (okay, only two – I’ve already forgotten the first downpour of the season), a trip to the beach house always offers up a few extra treasures. This time, it was a porpoise sighting and a small colony of otters that has moved into the neighborhood. You never know what will go sailing by while you’re standing on the front stoop.

Sand castles, seaweed wars, touch football, and giant crater digging are great activities for wearing out a passel of energetic kids. Sitting by a crackling fire at the end of the day, I question Claire about the best activities of the weekend – what rates highest? “Well,” she replies, ”I liked boogie boarding and chasing butterflies on the beach, but the best part was a warm cake in the bathtub.” Cake? In the tub? “No, Mom! CAPE!” I finally figure it out: Claire’s idea of happiness is a warm towel from the dryer after a dip in the cold Pacific waters. Ah, the simple things in life…