Let's Go Fly a Kite

I like to think that I am a much cooler American version of Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins.  You know, the sophisticated pretentious father who with the help of a magical nanny learns to appreciate the silly and love his children for who they are.  Then, they all go fly a kite.

Okay, I'm actually nothing like Mr. Banks.  I'm not stuffy.  I don't work in a bank.  Most importantly, I don't have a magical nanny that spontaneously breaks into song and flies around on an umbrella.  I do, however, love to go fly kites with my kids.

Horse Poop

So after four cups of coffee and some heartfelt Father's Day salutations, I loaded the kids into the car and headed to Border Field State Park which looked to be the perfect spot for kite flying. Situated right on the border between the U.S. and Mexico, the park features great views of Las Playas de Tijuana, hiking trails, a beach, mountains of horse poop, and the ever present (and sometimes creepy) eye of U.S. Border Patrol that keeps away other would be merry makers.

We hiked out to the nearly empty beach (keeping clear of the horse poop), and flew kites and let the boys jump in the water until they were hungry and tired.  Then, Lisa and I made them hike the mile back to the car.  And on the way home, 66.6% of them fell asleep in the car. 

It was a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious kind of day.