“Leave them. They’ll have some there. Let’s travel light,” said my husband, referring to our son’s set of buckets and spades.
Thirty-six hours, two plane trips, a ferry ride, two shuttles, and a taxi later, jet-lagged but beyond excited, we arrived at our island in the middle of the South Pacific.
I’d been dreaming of returning since my husband proposed here a decade ago; visualizing the joy of sharing this happy place with my then three-year-old son.
We wasted no time; dropping our bags in our room and heading straight to the beach for a dip in the ocean before heading to the dive shop to collect some snorkel gear.
They’ll have a set of buckets and spades, I thought. Nope.
So, we headed to the gift store. Nope.
The next day, we went to the local market. Buckets and spades? Nope.
Shoot. We messed up.
How was my son going to play all week? How were we going to entertain him? What kind of parents don’t bring toys to the beach?
I felt like a failure…only my son wasn’t bothered.