St. Augustine: Day One

We did a few things on Sunday–like going to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum and playing Cheese Touch (a board game) with Jake–but our first big day was Monday, and that’s where I’ll start my little post. We played in the beach house until about 10 and then we went into town, to the historic district, and poked around the little tourist shops.

 

Sophie was so cute that day in her new knit hat with the owl eyes. She and I went into Body Candy, a little shop that was selling edible body scrubs and dusting powders. Well, it wasn’t actually a shop; it was more of a booth. But the booth kind of looked like a gingerbread house, with strawberry wafer cookies for shutters, and the nice lady working there gave us free samples.

 

She was holding a fat, fluffy makeup brush, and she said kindly, “Would you like to try our dusting powder? It’s 100 percent edible and delicious.”

 

We nodded, and she brushed a bit of powder on the backs of our hands.

 

Sophie licked her powder off in a sweet, charming, demure sort of way. She licked very politely. Then her eyes lit up. “Mmm, that’s good,” she said.

 

Sophie never wants to buy anything (she’s a very practical, no-nonsense child), but she wanted to buy the dusting powder, which tasted exactly like powdered sugar.

 

“Maybe I should get this for my souvenir,” she said. “Mommy said I could get a souvenir.”

 

“It is delicious,” I said. “And it makes a nice dusting powder too. So it seems a wise investment. I approve.”

 

But Sophie decided she should think the decision over for a while.

 

Next the friendly lady gave us a little sample pot of edible body scrub to try. Sophie took a little bite from a tiny pink plastic spoon. I took a bite too. The scrub had a sweet, sugary, buttery flavor.

 

Sophie is the fussiest eater in the world and pretty much hates all food, but she kept snacking out of her little sample pot of edible body scrub even as we walked on to other shops. Her eyes were so bright; there was a spring in her step. She had finally found a food she liked!

 

“Isn’t it good?” she said.

 

“It’s quite nice,” I agreed.

 

She told me she was now thinking about getting the edible body scrub for her souvenir.

 

“I probably won’t scrub with it though,” she said, giggling shyly. “I’ll probably just eat it.”

 

“Well, that’s okay,” I said.

 

Oh, I just loved it. Sophie had finally found the food for her: edible body scrub!

 

Another interesting shop we visited was the Theatre Magic Shop, where the clerk suddenly came out from behind the cash register and put on a little magic show for us customers. The show was quite impressive and involved a wallet that burst into flames, a levitating quarter, and a ball that turned into two balls. The clerk was a dapper little man in a black turtleneck and a red satin vest, and Sophie was chosen to be his assistant, a job she took very seriously. Sophie was fascinated by the whole experience and kept talking about it the whole day, speculating about how the tricks were done. She began to dream about going back to the shop and purchasing the levitating quarter kit as her souvenir. I knew it wouldn’t be a waste of money. Sophie is the rare type of smart, determined child who will actually practice a magic trick over and over until she masters it. And in the end, after much debate, she did go back to the shop with her mother and make a purchase.

 

At about noon we went to the St. Augustine Pirate and Treasure Museum, and a really funny thing happened there. A costumed interpreter, dressed as a pirate, was walking around the museum, answering questions, and Phil stopped him and complimented him on his knee socks. Phil is so shy (he never says anything), so I was really surprised when I heard him talking to the pirate, saying, “Those are some nice socks. They sure look warm. Do you think I might be able to find a pair like that myself?”

 

“Arrr!” the pirate said. “I got them at the Pirate Shop just around the corner.”

 

Well, Phil was pumped. He was so excited, he even talked to me about it. (Phil never talks to me.) “I think I’ll head over the Pirate Shop,” he said. “It’s just around the corner. The guy said he got his socks there, and they look pretty good. Nice and warm, 100 percent wool. I think I might pick up a pair.”

 

And then he was off. He left the museum and went sock shopping. He was kind of a hilarious sight, headed down the sunny sidewalk. Phil hates being cold, so he was dressed for his day of shopping in bright yellow insulated fishing coveralls with a bulky FSU jacket crammed into them. Oh, and he was sporting a tall, colorful fleece hat. We had all chuckled at his outfit earlier that morning.

 

“Yeah,” Matt had said to him, “but at least you won’t look like a tourist, right?”

 

Phil spent half the day sock shopping along St. George Street on his own (apparently he had trouble finding that pirate shop), and I kept laughing every time I caught a glimpse of him up ahead in his coveralls. Here’s yet another reason the whole situation was so funny: Phil usually hates to spend money. In fact, he deplores it. But he was going for it on vacation; he was in hot pursuit of those pirate socks.

 

At the Pirate Museum gift shop, Jake picked out his souvenir–a little stuffed turtle with a striped pirate scarf and an eye patch. Jake named him Turtleson and loved him and felt sorry for him right away. For the next several hours he made his mother talk for Turtleson and answer his kindly questions.

 

“Turtleson,” Jake said, “have you ever lived in a house before?”

 

“No,” Kris/Turtleson said. “I never had the opportunity . . . because nobody ever bought me.”

 

“Why didn’t anybody buy you?” Jake asked sweetly, sympathetically.

 

“I don’t know,” Turtleson said. “Maybe they didn’t like my scarf. Or maybe it was my eye patch. . . . I’m sorry I have an eye problem, Jake. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

 

“I’m not disappointed,” Jake told his turtle. ” I think you’re perfect.”

 

“Thank you, Jake,” Turtleson said.

 

We had lunch at a little place called Pizzalley’s, and Jake and Turtleson chatted throughout the meal.

 

While we waited for our food, Jake asked, “Turtleson, have you ever had pizza?”

 

Turtleson said no in his sad-sack way.

 

“Well, you can have some today!” Jake cried happily. “It’s good! . . . And have you ever tried water? . . . Why don’t you have some right now?” And he gave the little turtle a sip from his paper cup.

 

Later I could hear Jake chattering to his turtle as we walked down the freezing, windy little streets. He said, “Turtleson, have you ever been in a bed before?”

 

And Turtleson said, “No, Jake. Can you tell me about it?”

 

“It’s soft, Turtleson,” Jake said. “And comfortable. I think you will like it. You can snug there all day, okay? Under the covers.”

 

“Thanks, Jake,” Turtleson said in his heartrending style. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

 

That night we played all kinds of games in the beach house, including Cheese Touch and Luck of the Draw. And Bun and I played Liv dolls with Sophie.

 

The Liv dolls are glamorous teens and Sophie had her doll say the most hilarious teen-ish things, like, “Oh no, you did not just go there.”

 

My poor doll was the hated one, “the foil,” as Bunny said. Everything she did was uncool according to the other dolls. My doll could not catch a break, and the other dolls always had annoying advice for her. At one point Sophie’s doll said to her, “Maybe if you were nicer, people might open up to you more.”

 

My doll stole Sophie’s doll’s prom dress and strode into the school cafeteria wearing it. I had her say to herself, “If nobody gives me a compliment on my dress, I am going to storm out of here. I owe that much to myself.”

 

Oh, the cattiness that followed! Oh, the drama!

 

It was really fun playing Liv dolls. We were still playing when Sophie’s mother told her she had to go to bed.

 

“Here,” Sophie said sweetly, reluctantly handing me her doll. “You guys can keep playing.”

 

I loved that, that she thought two middle-aged women might keep playing dolls together without her. But we did! We actually did. Bunny and I stayed up till midnight styling all the girls’ wigs and dressing them to the nines. And then we posed them in a nice way, not a teasing way. Each doll got to hold something, a little plastic pet rabbit, a little book. . . . One held a kumquat, but it was supposed to be a cantaloupe. This was my idea because we ran out of props.

 

Bun and I were so proud, but Sophie did not appreciate our work. The next morning she rushed into the living room, spied her dolls, and snatched them up. She threw them in their box in a huff. Then she cried, “I can’t believe you people! Haven’t you learned anything?!” (She was referring to the events of Christmas Day, when Bun, Matt, and I dressed Jake’s Darth Vader clock radio in a Liv Doll wig and Sophie ended up pouting and fake-crying in her closet.)

 

Sophie threw the kumquat at me.

 

“But it was supposed to be a cantaloupe!” I protested.

 

“I don’t like kumquats!” she yelled. “I don’t like cantaloupes!” But she was trying not to smile.