Henry: (yelling to an oncoming wave) This one, for sure, is not getting past us. STOP! WAVE!
Jane: Yeah, wave! Stop right there!
Me: YOU CANNOT PASS!
We are rolled over again in the foamy surf, laughing and spitting water. We do this again and again.
Henry suddenly has something very urgent to tell me.
Henry: Dad! We have to make something! We have to --
He is overcome by a wave. I wonder what device of war his mind has devised to finally stop these rogue waves from hitting the shore.
Henry: (spitting more water) We have to make rice pudding! We haven't had that in a while!
Another wave rolls over us.
(We do have leftover rice...)