"Did you program the DVR? We want to make sure 'Bachelor Pad' tapes," STM says.
"Got it," I say.
We both want to make sure that at the end of this very long day, there will be really good, really bad TV.
We pile into the car, Flicka and Rojo in the back row, Woohoo and her pillows and iPod in the middle, STM and me in the front. We drive the 90 minutes to the Oregon Coast, leaving the 95 degree day behind and head into fog and a 30 degree drop in temperature. Relief.
We head straight to the arcade, load our plastic cards with credit and begin swiping. First on the list is "Wheel of Fortune," but that one machine is out of order, as is the Gatorade machine, another top attraction for Rojo. He is not deterred, the show will go on. We move throughout the twisty and turny should-be-demolished building and find "Deal or No Deal." $2.00 a game. We play several. Magically, tickets come pouring out of the machine as Rojo makes, and does not make, deals. He's offered 100 tickets in exchange for his one remaining case. Two boys about ten, standing behind him watching (and waiting for the game) shout, "Deal!" Rojo says, "No, I don't want 100 tickets, I want 200 tickets."
Rojo slams the No Deal button and we all groan. He then is instructed to open his last remaining case. 200 tickets. As 100 tickets come out of each the dispensers by his legs, the boys in line look incredulous. Rojo sees their faces and is more excited that they are excited, than anything. "Want my tickets?" he turns and asks the boys? "You can have 100 each."
They gladly take the tickets.
We gladly leave and go to the beach to set up.
We spend the day throwing a football, playing with Flicka in the water, eating snacks and watching the sand TV (a yearly tradition).
We pile into the car, Flicka and Rojo in the back row, Woohoo and her pillows and iPod in the middle, STM and me in the front. We drive the 90 minutes to the Oregon Coast, leaving the 95 degree day behind and head into fog and a 30 degree drop in temperature. Relief.
We head straight to the arcade, load our plastic cards with credit and begin swiping. First on the list is "Wheel of Fortune," but that one machine is out of order, as is the Gatorade machine, another top attraction for Rojo. He is not deterred, the show will go on. We move throughout the twisty and turny should-be-demolished building and find "Deal or No Deal." $2.00 a game. We play several. Magically, tickets come pouring out of the machine as Rojo makes, and does not make, deals. He's offered 100 tickets in exchange for his one remaining case. Two boys about ten, standing behind him watching (and waiting for the game) shout, "Deal!" Rojo says, "No, I don't want 100 tickets, I want 200 tickets."
Rojo slams the No Deal button and we all groan. He then is instructed to open his last remaining case. 200 tickets. As 100 tickets come out of each the dispensers by his legs, the boys in line look incredulous. Rojo sees their faces and is more excited that they are excited, than anything. "Want my tickets?" he turns and asks the boys? "You can have 100 each."
They gladly take the tickets.
We gladly leave and go to the beach to set up.
We spend the day throwing a football, playing with Flicka in the water, eating snacks and watching the sand TV (a yearly tradition).
Wouldn't negotiate a trade for anything.
11 comments:
sand tv .
oh how I love that.
Gorgeous! What a beautiful day for a beautiful family.
I still remember the remote control and the TV Rojo made out of sand. I have it hanging on my wall....
Love you
Suzy
Sounds nearly perfect for you all. I love your boy's generosity and his certainty.
sounds like fun (except for the arcade, for me!). I need to get to the beach -- only 7 miles away -- more often, but it's such a hassle to do all that loading!
Glad you had a good day.
Should I move there?
-MF
Oh wow. What a magical child. I love this story. Have ball, all of you!
:)
How does he do that?
And a beach, that sounds heavenly.
Love. Love that boy. Love that he won 200 tickets. Love that you love good bad TV.
Rojo's generosity brought tears to my eyes. That boy has his priorities so straight, you could use them for a carpenter's level.
love.
love.
love.
Rojo.
Crying over the tickets, because he is just so.damn.beautiful.
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