The Big Rock

At my Grandma's house, there is a HUGE rock right out front on the beach.  All of my aunts, uncles, cousins, sister and myself grew up climbing up on the rock.  Just last week, Corbin got to get on the rock for the very first time.  It was pretty cool watching my aunt help him up on the rock, just like she did for me 30 years ago.  Getting down from the rock, he got his first barnacle cut that warranted a band aid.  He was less than pleased with it, and his cry got more and more dramatic as we got closer to the house and the rest of the family.  Rather than the usual Mommy Sympathy he gets when he is hurt, I was quite proud.  Getting a barnacle cut is a rite of passage.

Another rite of passage is having a nightmare about the size of the crab underneath that huge rock.  I think every kid that goes to that beach has that nightmare.  Grandma's beach is a rocky beach, and under each sizeable rock are small crabs.  The bigger the rock, the bigger the crabs.  So, logic would tell you that under that HUGE rock is an equally HUGE crab.  That night after climbing on the rock, Corbin woke up at 4 am with a nightmare about a huge crab under that rock.  I never thought that my child's nightmare would make me feel content.  But how cool is it that 3 generations of kids have grown up with that same experience - the challenge of climbing the rock, the skill it takes to not get a barnacle cut, the courage it takes to then climb back down the rock without sliding, the fun of hunting for crabs.  Something that connects us all and conjures up wonderful memories.