When she was good, she was very, very good....

This blog for those of you who miss the clarity of her sapphire stare, for those who long to squeeze once more her plump tympanic belly, and for those who wish to awaken, if for only one blinking second, to the sound of her impish giggle. On our journey we daily ride the exuberant, the tyrannical, the exhilarating wave known as Althea.

We soar to exalted heights as she delights in the lapping of the tide. She loses herself completely in the white swirls of churning wavelets. Even when she is momentarily conquered by the ocean’s surging force she fearlessly returns for more. We listen, ourselves like wide-eyed children, as she recounts triumphant tales of swallowing salty gulps while spitting the grit from her victorious lips. Althea, our guru, teaches us that the ocean gets “hot hot hot” as it absorbs the setting sun. We unanimously agree the next night and the next and the next. Indeed it is Althea and the ocean that define the passing moments of our days.

And like the ocean, the four-year-old Althea can be one minute gleeful and placid and the next raging and torrential. The sound of “no” resounds in the chamber of her indomitable spirit like an all-out declaration of war. She lashes out with a full arsenal of yelling, screaming, stomping, hitting, and even spitting. We stand in shock and awe as she articulates adamant refusals in our faces. Our cache of time-outs, privilege-removal, and corporeal punishment seems to wither impotent in the heat of her scoffing rancor. She remains unaffected by our consistent authority, and we remain aghast at her defiant hubris. In vain, we search for a curandera, an exorcist, anyone who might vanish the Mr. Hyde who momentarily takes up residence in the body of our little girl.

But alas, the storm exhausts its efforts and releases its rage. Althea regains her limits, shores up a smile and resumes her cheerful ways. It is this infectious cheer of hers that instantaneously makes friends of strangers. It dissolves the divisions of cultural difference. In seven weeks time Althea has developed an essential Spanish vocabulary—“Quieres jugar?” . . . “Donde esta el perrito? . . . Puedo tener helado? . . . and much, much more.

Although the confines of our casa móvil test the limits of parental patience, the vast space of sea and sky affords countless teachable moments. To watch her search for Orion and the big dipper, to hear her shout “look, look” through a snorkel, and to rest against her at the day’s end all far outweigh the ferocity of her tempestuous tantrums.

If, however, you’d like to visit us and baby-sit, we welcome you. We can guarantee and abundance of fresh food, and infinite supply of stars and plenty of good laughs. So drop us a line and mark your calendar.

Althea promises she’ll be on her best behavior.