I was screaming this in a high-pitched voice last night, as the family took a mini-vacation out to Ocean Shores - where I spent most of my summers growing up.
Jennifer ran out to see, but quickly turned on the teenage disdain for excitement (when the drama isn't about her) and said "mom, quit squealing". I wasn't squealing. Squeaking with excitement, maybe but not squealing.
But she did appreciate the huge agate I found on the beach, and when I pointed out an owl hunting, she liked that too.
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