Oh the stories he will tell. Mexico.

Yesterday, Turner and I got to the beach a quarter to 10. We left, begrudgingly, at 2:30, headed to our casita, showered (Turner for nearly 30 minutes), and got on the road to home. Here are some stories that Turner told - first, to Chiara, then to D, and then to Andy. I figure since they are the most memorable ones to Turner, then I should share my version with everyone. MY favorite part of the day, was the nearly two hours Turner sat close to me on the blanket and bounced back and forth from fishing out of our make-believe red boat and practicing storytelling with me about the seagulls. I would start, he would add, then I would add, then he would add. There were three seagulls and their names were Clarence [nickname Poopy Head], Socko, and Shishoo..

1. The Dead Horse. As we were leaving the taco shop on Saturday, we passed a horse that was tied up and looked pretty sad. I didn't point him out to Turner, but I thought how awful his life must be. He really looked neglected. His home was a sandy space between the taco stand and some small condos lining the beach. On Sunday, as we left the beach, we passed the horse again. This time, he was laying on the ground. I pointed him out to Turner and said how sad it was that the horse wasn't being taken care of. He said, "Yeah. And Mom, look. He's laying in his own poop." Indeed he was. I say, "Most of the time when horses look like that, it isn't good. He might be dying. His owner isn't taking care of him." After several minutes of watching the horse be still, then thrash, then be still we left him. He heaved a huge gust of air from his lungs and I wanted to cry. I am NOT an animal person, you all know. And, I lack empathy for most big animals, such as horses. Yet, this horse's life seemed so miserable and awful that no one could overlook such sadness. When Turner talks to Chiara and then to D he tells them he saw a dead horse.

2. The Ranned Away Crab. A gentleman approached us just as I spread our blanket flat early Sunday morning. "You guys want to keep this?" I look at it. He says one of the things is poisonous. I don't look very closely, but accept the gift. Inside the shell are some long arms/legs that are green. It looks like a small octopus. I think the guy said it was squid but that didn't seem right. Anyway, I sat the shell down in front of me (convinced that what was inside was long ago dead). My feet mess around in the sand as I watch Turner climb rocks. He is trying "desperately" to keep his Light Up Lightning McQueen shoes dry. There was about four brief seconds between when I reminded him to try and keep them dry and the first moment he semi-"tripped" into the four inches of ocean water at the shore. "Oh well." Shoulders leap to earlobes, "They still work Mom." I turn my gaze downward as I shake my head and, in a brief moment I think I see the shell move. I look closely and realize there is a crab inside it. Not a hermit crab. A real one. It was tiny and green. The other animal in there began to move and agitate the crab such that one long tentacle is wrapping around the crab as he pushes himself from the shell. I jump a bit and both animals are paralyzed. I yell for Turner.
We investigate and observe for a very long time, and nothing happens. He decides we should should refer to the crab as "Quosa," and he made a funny sound as he joined the Q with the U. I can't replicate it. Anyway, he was consistent with the pronunciation and I found it fascinating. "What an interesting name Turner. What made you think of that?" "I don't know. [long pause] It's just because he is green I guess." After a long while, Turner tires of our observational study and requests follow the leader on the rocks. I join him with the mission that we send our wishes into the sea. When we return to our blanket--after five missed rock attempts, one major boo boo, one mommy losing her balance, another dog poop encounter, and nearly five mintues of wish making--the crab had made an escape. The other animal remains, tentacles pushing out the side and touching sand. It is clear he is an animal in need of water, so I ask Turner to bring him some. After much searching for an appropriate bowl-shaped shell, we give up. He decides to carry the shell to the water and put some drops in. He gets to the tide pool. He bends to look into the water and, as can happen to the best of us, his hand tilts as well. The animal inside must sense danger and reaches his tentacle out and touches Turner's arm. Turner throws the shell as far as he can, just as he screams. Then he is running and crying. In a moment he has lost his balance and plants a face into the sand. I flip out. "WHY ARE YOU CRYING!" I am running half wrapped in a beach towel, sea shells scratching my feet, the towel trailing behind me, and I swoop him up. I am scared and in a moment I realize that not only am I too lazy to go buy shampoo in a place where I will not know the language, I have no idea where the hospital is. My fear is sensed by Turner and he calms, "Mom!" "Yes. Where? Did it sting? Does it hurt?" I am pulling his jacket sleeve up and examining. "Mom!" And he puts his hand on my face. I meet his tear-filled eyes, "I just want my crab to come back." No real sting. No poisonous venom to suck out. Just a crab unwilling to make the drive back to Tucson in a red Solo cup.

3. The Boo Boo. On Saturday, when we arrived, Turner fell walking across the street. By Sunday, the scrape on his knee went from an asphalt / knee collision to a rock climbing expedition accident. Even today, at school, he told Ms. Peggy that he fell while climbing the rocks with me. Indeed, he did fall while climbing rocks with me. I fell too, at a different less dangerous place. Turner's fall, however, looked bad, but he caught himself and no rock contact was made with his skin. Tears formed and as soon as they did he dried them up. I was prepared to be sympathetic, as sometimes I can fail to be. Yet, he didn't want it. "I'm OK Mom. I can keep going." He literally dusted himself off and resumed leading me around the rock formations. Yet, when he relays the story of the boo boo to D and then again today at school, he tells the story of the fall at the rocks, not the fall crossing the street as the one that caused the three scrapes across his knee. I asked him if he wanted to put medicine on it tonight after his bath. He declined because "I like it like this."

*Funny sidenote: I am typing this in the kitchen. The two boxes that Cheryl mailed to us today are on the kitchen counter. One of them just started honking. :)