By which I mean, Charlie has an Idea of how things or people or situation are supposed to be and he accepts no imitations, representations or substitutes.
We do try to teach him to be flexible and not, for instance, only eat McDonalds French fries. (He does not, though, eat crinkle-cut fries -- that means they're not his ideal image of 'fries,' right?)
The idea of the beach in Charlie's head was crashing, foamy, powerful waves, from the time he woke at 4.45am on Saturday, through waiting terribly patiently in the house and then in the car in the driveway, and then in the car on the Garden State Parkway as we crawled along with many other residents of New York, Connecticut, Florida, Quebec and New Jersey. Although he smiled and splashed and went under the water at the beach when we finally got there, he held his body very stiff most of the time. Unlike our previous visits, the waves were placid and gentle, without any foam and dash and roar -- fine for Jim and me to swim around, no fun for Charlie who likes his ocean wilder.
He fell asleep as we drove home and refused to get out of the car once it was parked. He pushed his iPad towards me as it was slow loading videos. My suggestion that he come inside led to him grabbing the iPad back, making a very unhappy sound, and banging his head.
We got him out of the car and, after some heavy duty stomping and screams which signal a stomachache, the whole matter defused and Charlie sat on the black couch and was disconsolate, then cried for his bike. He smiled a little as he pedalled off after Jim, with a glance over his shoulder at me on our porch.
The beauty of the beach -- why it beats a swimming pool any day -- is that it's always changing, and those changes do teach Charlie that such is the way of the world. That said, we're always trying to take a little of the bite off reality, harsh as it can be, and reach with Charlie for that Ideal; for the perfect wave and beach day.
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