Umbrella

“You better make sure you know where our umbrella’s located,” Mom says to me.

But I’m a big boy and she worries too much.

“I’m on an adventure,” I laugh as I make my way to the shores edge, intent on finding sea shells, chasing and being chased by the rolling waves.

Two minutes later: “Where’s our umbrella? Which one is ours. They all look the same.”

Starting to cry, Mom finds and brings me to our umbrella. Now she won’t let me out of her sight, where I must be contented digging holes and building castles in the sand.