The day seemed magical.  Gaby went in the water for hours, which according to her brother, she never does.  Tyson chatted with me about high school, which according to his mother, he rarely does.  I got to finish a book in two days, which–outside of cross-country plane trips–I never do.  And, we got to just hang out, which we almost never do.

Because it was Monday, the beach was pretty empty and the waves were high.  The lifeguards called in some long boarders who seemed a bit precarious, so few folks were venturing far out and weekend boaters were back to work.  That may have been the encouragement two dolphins needed to criss-cross the ocean in front of our perch.  I couldn’t catch them, but I did catch the lovely waves crashing the beach.

After a second full day at the beach, we went into Savannah for dinner and a movie.  We all squished in to one car, with a kid in the “way back” just like we used to do in the olden days.  On the drive in, Tyson recounted the saga of his Disney Cruise Line appendicitis, and Ned shared his tale of the Grand Canyon and the shattered ankle.  As everyone threw in additional details, the stories grew in epic proportions.

Because we’d be eating at Mrs. Wilkes on our last day, we went more South: Mexican.  La Xalapena was right near the theatre and had great reviews, but it was dead empty at 6 when we showed up.  This was both nice–we got to talk very loudly about our differing musical preferences.  I became Tyson’s ally on #TeamNotTaylorSwift but lost his allegiance when it was revealed I had no knowledge of Eric Church.  Penn schooled us that 5 Sauce is not a band, but stands for 5 Seconds of Summer (SOS).  Got it.  Harper recoiled in horror when her cousins did not know what Empire was.  And so on,   Plus, the food was crazy good!  Everything we ordered, from guacamole to mole to carnitas to plain-as-plain-can-be burritos was delicious!

Ned takes a call in one of the three other empty corners, bathed in light by the South American football recap.

Since we had time before the movie, we engaged in a song playoff.  Of Eric Church, Ned opined, “I can hear this guy’s hat.”  Of some puppy-faced teen singer/songwriter, I noted that he sounded “moist.” No one but Ned and I knew who the Police were, and after slamming Matt and Kim over dinner, Penn had to admit that “Hoodie On” is a great song.

For all its tourists, Savannah is still a small Southern town, so it had a small Southern town movie theater that reminded Ned and me of the theaters we used to go to in Gainesville: only about 6 kinds of candy in the concession and tiny boxes with puffy seats.  The signage was so bad that the few people who walked in repeatedly asked Ned if this was the theater showing Spy.  With great confidence, he said, “Yes,” and then was relieved when the credits proved him right.  There were probably a dozen people–including the six of us–at that showing, and the laughter from our row filled the entire place.  Spy delivered!  Harper was laughing so much that at one point, she stood up.  Success!

Another lovely day: sun, sand, songs, and Spy.  Who could ask for more?