We started off the evening with the rides, under the supposition that motionful rides plus an  infant’s full belly would lead to less than desirable result.  A “test-run” we ran with Justine earlier in the week made it clear that riding “acapella” was not in her repertoire, and so Kim and I both took a spin on the flying elephants with her, with some success (and some unbridled screaming).  Her older cousins did a much better job riding in the fire trucks, spaceship, boats and on the upside down Ferris Wheel.   After we all had our fill, we finished on the classic carousel – Kim trying to coax a smile out of Justine as she perched on her faux horse, while I tried in vain to maintain my balance and get some decent pictures as the wheel spun violently, jettisoning many a small, untethered children into the hard concrete below.

After the rides, we headed to a pizza place just a few storefronts down from the rides, and ordered a few pies for everyone.  Remarkably we made it through the meal with a minimum of meltdowns but a sizable fallout zone of fallen pizza thanks to the toddlers and their high chairs.  After paying the bill and making our standard apologies for the noise, mess, and lousy tip, we headed back onto the boardwalk in search of dessert.

The sea-air infused planks in Ocean City offer a stunning myriad of sugary delights, from the ubiquitous funnel cake and cotton candy to the more exotic deep fried Oreos and veal gelato.  And of course, the ice cream.  There was little debate as we all partook of either some good ol’ fashioned hard ice cream or the delectable soft serve from Kohr Bros.  We consumed our tasty victuals as we waited for a local shore band (The Tidal Wave Band) to get set up.  By the time they started their show, our dear little toddler’s were well entrenched in the mind-bending grip of sugar.

Her older cousins quickly broke into spontaneous dance, busting moves I’d only ever seen on Soul Train and/or Lawrence Welk.  And then there stood Justine, marveling at retired beach bums spinning Beach Boy riffs and pounding steel drums in front of her, in awe of the site and jittery as the sucrose coursed through her veins.  I captured her on film at this exact moment of bliss.

“No. Way.”