There’s a tremendous place tucked away in the corner of a magical land.  It’s a land where the salty ocean meets the fresh water. A place where the locals sustain consistency among high seasonality and the tourists come to escape the melee of city life.  My wife and I took the kids in an effort to expose them to a new place, miles away from their standard scripts.  

The kids timidly worked their way from their nook in the minivan to the sea, reigning in their excitement with increasing effort as the got closer to the water.  Once we took a picture to prove to our friends that we can keep our children clean, we unleashed them.  

This cove housed a healthy beach, surrounded by car-sized rocks on either side.  The kids went straight to the rocks, climbing up and on and around and under with decreasing trepidation.  It was as if they’d never seen rocks before. Watching them was magnetic.  I was drawn to their sense of adventure.  They had a need to look under and behind and over every rock from every angle.  There were creepy crawlies that went unnoticed until standing right up on them.  There were big rocks and little rocks and rocks that moved and rocks that held secret creatures.  It was all so mysterious. 

After an hour or so, no one had died or even gotten hurt.  My bride and I tried to herd the kids to the other end of the beach but there were still rocks to touch.  They needed to touch and see and explore every last rock.  The kids were not bound by the thousands of miles to get to this place nor were they aware of the thousands of miles to go.  They were here. 

I was also pulled by the magnetic force that is my medical insurance deductible. Each rock was slick from the tide and covered in snot-like mosses that covered the south side or back side or some eternal rule that I don’t understand.  I was cautiously calibrating boundaries with each child. I watched old kids and young kids and round kids and skinny kids go up and over and around.  I even saw a shirtless karate instructor lead a group of kids into the frigid water, pretending to be Braveheart, defending the land of the strip-mall-dojo.  Meanwhile, I pulled out my GoPro and fancy waterproof case and stuck it in the water.  I needed to make use of that waterproof case I bought online at the office one slow afternoon.  I was feigning adventure with a selfie-stick while my children were off touching every last rock.  

This is the lesson on play: touch, jump, climb, slip, fall.  Giggle, laugh, yell and pretend to lead an army of Bad News Bears into certain danger.  The forces between play and insurance deductibles are strong, yet can be influenced easily. I chose play, drawn by the pull of my children.  So I took my GoPro and fancy case and climbed the rocks, pretending to check out the safety on behalf of my children.  Then I stopped pretending and just jumped from rock to rock, touching almost all of them.  I’m not as proficient at play as I used to be.  I guess I should practice.