Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the apartment, just the DVDs. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
Monica sat in the middle of the back seat between the two backwards-facing car carriages. On her left, Chandler was crouching, half out of the open car door, tending to Erica in her seat. On her left was Jack, kicking his little legs excitedly at the strange new smell of salt air and sea breezes.
She pumped quite a measure of the yellow bottle of Sunscreen for Sensitive Infant Skin into her hands and then passed the sunscreen bottle back to Chandler so he could scream up Erica. Warming the cream against her fingers, Monica prepared to spread it across her son's skin.
"Alrighty Jack," she found herself saying, talking idly through her movements. "Let's do your face first. Shut your eyes for me?"
Bright blue eyes blinked up at her curiously from where Jack was still buckled into his seat. Jack beamed a toothless smile up at her, two white lines where his first teeth were erupting visible in his pink gums, and shook his legs excitedly.
Monica hummed happily and leant forward, bumping her nose against the small button of the boy's. "I know it's exciting, sweetie. But we need to put sunscreen on."
Jack smiled wider, kicking his legs wildly. Monica was so glad his first teeth had finally started coming through, the teeth pushing through the vulnerable gums was the most painful part of teething, according to the books, and she was so glad he and Erica were finally free of that pain. Jack sat in his seat staring up at her, babbling merrily as though he was completely unaware of how painful life could be, she prayed he stayed that innocent and carefree for as long as possible. Those nonsensical words were beginning to resemble something with meaning, not real words and nowhere near sentences, but he and his sister could point and articulate a few syllables that sounded like they were trying to convey a message. And the twins undoubtedly had their own verbal form of communication that they seemed to understand and respond to these days, Chandler certainly thought the pair of them were plotting and planning together. Monica got the distinct impression that Jack in particular was close to announcing real words very soon.
"Close your eyes for Mummy?" She thrilled, still, at the name, almost a year in and still delighting in simply being recognised as a mother. Monica asked the question again, exaggerating her own shut lids to try and get her to try and get her son to keep his eyelids closed, hoping Chandler's technique of giving an example of the action would work.
Rubbing her fingertips together, Monica smoothed the white cream across the soft apple of Jack's cheeks. She circled her fingers over the sides of Jack's nose and up to smooth across his forehead, dipping as close as she dared over his eyebrows down to the top of his eyes and beneath them, keeping her fingers touching his face so he didn't flinch away when he saw her fingers coming at him. Monica did the same with his mouth, tracing sunscreen around his pink lips while Monica watched the baby pull his lips together in a tight, droopy frown, just like his father.
A wail pierced the air and Jack reacted slightly quicker than Monica, turning his head and craning his neck to see his sister.
"Ah, I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know."
Monica watched as Chandler circled at Erica's weeping mouth with her collar. He was so gentle and attentive, but Monica wasn't surprised by how easily taking care of their babies had come to Chandler. It was remembering how he doubted himself before the twins arrived that she could not fathom. All those traits that made him a good friend, a great boyfriend, a wonderful husband, a reliable worker, all culminated and mingled and made him an amazing father. A natural.
Chandler held out the sunscreen bottle for her to take and Monica pumped the spout a few times to gather some of the cream. She slid Jack's sleeve up and rubbed the SPF 50 into his skin and then passed it back to her husband who stored it in the seat by Erica's wiggling feet.
Satisfied that her son was slathered in the stuff and covered from head to toe in his rashguard and swim shorts, Monica announced to the boy that it was time to get out of the car. With a little effort, Monica squeezed between the seats and exited the car, opening the door on the right side and leaning back in to unbuckle Jack's seatbelt and lift him out of the car. She coddled the boy to her chest and made her way around the back of the car to where Chandler was swapping Erica from the car seat to the pram seat.
With the twins fastened in the pram, a cooler bag in the undercarriage storing food and drinks, a beach brolly tucked under Chandler's arm and a bag stuffed with towels, more sunscreen, a book, camera, and Chandler's phone over Monica's shoulder, they made their way down to the sand.
Monica shook out a towel while Chandler set up the umbrella. Monica unrolled one towel, shaking it flat as before it settled onto the ground. She then unravelled a second towel and put it opposite the first one so that the umbrella cast shade over the two rectangles of fabric and the patch of sand between them, the view of the water and the pram behind them completing the square. Monica put the two bags on the ends of the towels to hold them down and kicked her shoes off. She watched as Chandler secured the canary yellow boat hats over the twins' heads and flicked off the elastic over the back of their heels so their sandals could be removed.
"Are you ready?"
Monica wasn't sure which of them was more excited; the twins, who were fidgeting happily in their seats, excited by the smell of the beach, or Chandler, who was filled with a similar wonder, looking forward to watching their children discover sand.
One by one, he deposited each infant in Monica's arms on the shaded towels, Jack first, and then Erica. They were growing up so fast, Monica didn't need to sit behind Jack to keep him steady anymore, but she did anyway, pulling the boy in front of her lap, letting him sit in the sand facing Erica.
Chandler sat on the towel opposite her and stood Erica up in the sand. His large hands spanned the infant's torso just beneath her arms as she crunched her toes in the rusted yellow grains.
Chandler's face came out from behind the girl, his nose at her cheek, watching Erica's smiling mouth open in delight. His eyes dropped to watch Erica's feet as she stomped in the sand, giggling at the new sensation.
"How do you like that, Eri?" His voice was soft, vibrating with a chuckle as the little girl giggled in his arms. She stilled and scrunched her toes curiously, "Weird, isn't it?"
Meanwhile, Jack was leaning forward, grabbing at the sand with his little fingers, trying to hold it. It didn't work and the grains slipped through his fingers and Monica watched Jack try again, then a third time. He reached forward further and employed a second hand, curling his fingers in the sand, all five fingers making a fist, and then releasing it, so determined to capture it in his fingers that he moved onto his knees, gurgling syllables that Erica seemed to recognise and respond to.
"I think they like it," Monica told her husband as she watched him eyeing their babies.
Chandler hummed his reply but his eyes were on Jack as he bounced on his nappy, smashing his open hands together as he tried to capture the grains of sand. Erica sat in the sand and slapped it, kicking his heels and displacing the sand in every direction. So simple, and yet the sand had captivated their complete attention with its novelty.
Monica stretched a hand out and retrieved a few things from a bag that Rachel had gifted them for the day. The twins weren't anywhere near having developed the gross motor skills of sandcastle making, but Monica had brought along the donated buckets and shovels in vibrant primary colours anyway. Chandler suggested one of them go down to the water's edge and get some wet sand or water to show the kids how to make sandcastles. "It'll blow their minds, babe."
Monica nodded and told Chandler to watch them as she grabbed a blue bucket and headed for the ocean to collect water and brought it back by the handle, plinking it on the sand. Chandler was distracting the children and the twins barely even noticed that she had left. It should have offended her a little, but she struggled to notice people leaving a room when Chandler Bing was looking at her, talking to her, so she definitely understood the sentiment. Her husband was laying across the sand between the two towels, his head by Jack with his elbow stabbed into the sand while his hips were bent, his legs still behind Erica. Chandler was chatting away, asking all sorts of questions of the twins and how they were enjoying themselves, what their plans were to do with the sand. Jack had a spade in his hand and was patting at the lumps in the sand, he hadn't worked out that he could scoop up the sand but looked like he was about to figure it out as he stopped slapping and moved his bright yellow spade from side to side, skimming the soft grains. Sooner or later, he was going to turn the spade over and accidentally gather sand in the flat mouth.
When Monica returned, Chandler sat back up, pushing his sunglasses into his hair, and wrapped his arms around Erica to show her how to use the bucket properly. She was happily creating a cacophony as she slapped its sides and laughed. After a while, she slapped it between her hands a little too hard and accidentally lifted it in the air but found that lifting and dropping it to the sand, picking it up and putting it down, was just as fun as hitting it with her palms. And then Erica started making frustrated whining sounds when she couldn't get it to do what she wanted it to. Monica couldn't figure that one out, Erica was putting the bucket down but wasn't satisfied when it was straight in the sand, she whined when it tilted sideways. Chandler's eyes met Monica's and he looked just as confused as she felt, but he didn't dwell. Instead, Chandler covered her hands with his and tipped the bucket completely over on its side.
"You know, it's also fun to use it like this," Chandler told her. "It's cool as a drum but look what else you can do."
Erica's head tilted up to watch him as Chandler talked her through laying the red bucket on its side and pushing sand into its gaping maw. Her whole body pitched backwards so that Erica leant against his arm, gazing up at her father. Chandler hummed and grinned right back, wide and toothy and bright, carefree and happy. Monica reminisced on the period just after they'd gotten married and she had thought she'd never seen him smile so constantly, or when they'd started going out and every smile from him was an unexpected gift. Or before then, when a smile from Chandler had been so rare it almost never happened. That period felt like a distant dream or a long-forgotten television show; a fact, but not a real one. Monica would swear up and down that Chandler rarely grinning had never been a trait of his. Surely, this ever-present smile Chandler constantly wore had always been Chandler's norm. She could hardly recall what he looked like when he wasn't beaming with pride or grinning with enthusiasm.
Erica lifted a hand to touch Chandler's cheek, tiny and covered in sand.
"I love you too, kiddo." His deep voice was soft and reverent.
Erica clapped her hand against her father's face. Monica could see that wise look in her eyes, impossibly profound, and then she turned back around and lay her hands over the top of Chandler's, as though she was the one teaching him to push sand into the bucket, the occasional clap against the back of his hand and bounce as she did so reminding them that she was still developing and not the more mature of the two. After a moment or two, Chandler tipped the bucket upside down to show Erica the grains would stand up as a tall tower momentarily and then shift and sink back to nothingness. Erica smacked the sand where the castle had been, bah-ing, distressed, by its disappearance. Chandler cooed calmly, telling her it would be fine and that he'd fix it, "See."
He was going to be doing a lot of that over the coming years, Monica imagined. She'd already known that Chandler had a knack for mending broken things around his and Joey's apartment, more metaphorically than practically, paying bills and buying food to fix shortages. His talents for saying the right thing at the right time to Rachel, taking Ross' mind off something with a joke, and not taking crap from Phoebe, not because he was ignoring her but because he recognised she was displacing what she was feeling, were often overlooked by the others, but Monica saw him for who he was; someone who always tried to help and understand and heal any hurts. Already, those traits and skills were coming in handy and Monica could see the twins' running to Dad when they needed new Lego, when someone was mean at school, when their heart's got broken. Running on instinct, he'd know exactly what to do to help them out and fix the situation.
Erica's whines turned into gleeful nonsense phrases as Chandler flipped the bucket over and made another mountain of sand. The castle was neither skilful nor standing very tall or for very long, but it delighted Erica just the same. She pat at its sides and inspected the divots and shapes etched along the top with her tiny fingers. Erica slapped her little hands enthusiastically against the sandcastle until it fell completely back with the rest of the sand.
She looked back up at her father expectantly and Chandler did it again for her.
Monica found the sky blue cylindrical spade and scooped out a little water from the bucket and splashed it on the sand at Jack's hands, creating a line of dark brown sand. Jack dropped the yellow shovel and reached his hands into the sand again. He stretched his fingers overly wide and then closed his fist around the wet sand.
Monica watched the boy bring his hand up to his face and open his palm, staring at the little brown mountain of sand. Then he brought it to his mouth.
"Ah!" Monica sounded, hooking her pointer finger around Jack's wrist and pulling it from his gums.
The second she stopped pushing his hand away from his mouth he brought it back, never mind that he'd dropped the sand in his lap. Jack shoved two fingers in his mouth, his thumb and last two fingers spread outside the line of his lips.
"No." She elongated the vowel at the end so her voice came out like she was singing rather than the sharp, strict shout it had been before. Jack blinked up at her and removed his fingers from his mouth of his own accord.
Jack reacher to grip more sand, crunching it in his hands over and over again, spreading his fingers wide and marvelling at the sensation of the slightly wet, slightly cool, denser sand until he'd mixed all the wet sand with the dry sand and there was none left. He whined unhappily and pouted his bottom lip as he looked up at his mother, hoping she would fix the situation and make more of the wet sand.
She stroked a hand over his hat, the brim flapping up in the soft breeze, and revealing his ruddy cheeks and wet eyes. Monica indicated to Jack that he should pick up the handle of the spade by pointing to it and then picking up the end and offering him the handle.
When he gripped the ergonomic plastic, Monica curled her fingers around Jack's and guided him to the bucket of water, showing him that he could scoop the water with the spade and then dripped it over the sand.
Jack bounced on his nappy, babbling excitedly as the water splashed at his feet and made a swirl against the dry sand, changing its colour.
Jack continued to scoop and splash as he pleased, delighting in the simple action.
Monica caressed his head, fixing the brim of his hat, and cast her eyes over to her husband and daughter.
Chandler had tipped a little water into the tiny, castle-shaped mould, mixed it with the dry sand in the mould and flipped the bucket upside down, having Erica drum on the top of the upturned mould a few times and then lifting it away. Again, the castle cracked in half, neither fully formed nor stable, but Erica didn't notice the architectural mistakes. She clapped and giggled and Chandler laughed proudly. It was the little things he seemed to delight in, teaching the children the everyday wonders most adults had forgotten about.
"Ready for your turn?" Chandler asked before he guided Erica through the steps but Monica wasn't sure how much the girl understood. But she was following the instructions, copying Chandler's hand as he swept some sand into the small red castle mould she'd been playing with, pushing the soft sand into the bucket.
"Can I please borrow some of this, Jack?" Chandler asked his son.
Monica couldn't be sure if he realised what was going on or that he was reacting perfectly, but Jack seemed to nod when Chandler tapped his finger on the edge of the bucket of water. For all she knew, he was probably only mimicking what he'd seen her and Chandler do when they were conversing, but then again, her son was incredibly smart for his age.
Chandler took that as a good sign and took the bucket up with his left hand. Erica watched mesmerised as Chandler poured some water into the plastic mould, fascinated by the trickle of the clear liquid.
"Thank you, Jack." Chandler gave the boy the bucket back and his eyes flicked up to Monica's with a smile painted on his lips.
She couldn't help but grin back, running a finger over Jack's soft little arm as he reached for the bucket. "Say 'ta.'"
Jack smacked his lips, which Monica figured was good enough as the boy went right back to waving his shovel in the air and slapping it on the sand while he dipped his free hand in the bucket and shoved it in his mouth to suck the salt off his fingers despite Monica's protests.
Then, Chandler passed Erica the bed of the spade and moved her hand until the baby understood his meaning and managed the action herself.
"Oh my God, Mon, look." Chandler's voice was whispered and desperate, tinged with an optimism and pride he always seemed to have when he was walking about the twins. Chandler wore that familiar expression that Monica had grown all too fond of in recent months, completely enamoured and utterly in awe, looking every bit like he wanted to drop a kiss to the top of their child's head but refraining himself so the baby continued to do what it was doing unbothered. "Look what she's doing. Just like her mother."
Erica was copying what her father had modelled and stirring water into the mould that she had pushed half-full of sand. She held it under her arm against her thigh but looked like the spitting image of Monica in the kitchen, stirring a wooden spoon in a mixing bowl.
Monica melted. She bent forward to pull out the camera from the bottom of the pram and took a few snaps of the twins just as Erica overturned the bucket and sand went everywhere and catching Jack mid-yawn while his yellow spade was held above his head in a stretch.
Jack dipped his shovel into the bucket of water. He was getting the hang of dripping the water into patterns across the dry sand, scooping up the wet sand in his hand, utterly fascinated by the different textures, to soft and fluffy against the cold, coarse grain, proudly showing Monica his discoveries in his open palm every so often.
Jack waved the spade around, droplets of water flying in all directions.
"Ha ma," Jack intoned as he sprayed the three of them with saltwater collected on the end of the utensil.
"No, Jack," but Chandler was laughing, leaning backward as he said it, diminishing any sort of discipline he might have attempted.
Regardless of Chandler's tone, Jack stopped, but Monica didn't think it had anything much to do with what his father said. Quickly, Jack's movements grew slow and lethargic, his wrist less controlled and more limp as he moved the shovel over the sand, stabbing it in the sand and flicking slightly but not powerfully, barely dislodging any of the damp sand.
"Tired Jackie?" She asked the boy as she watched him first blink slowly and then drop the spade from his hands, his chin slumping to his chest with a yawn. It wasn't too surprising, the twins were definitely able to stay awake for longer periods but they still took at least two naps during the daytime, only for an hour or so, but napped nonetheless. She chuckled. Once, Monica had thought the sweetest thing she could ever see was Chandler as he drifted off into dreamland, nothing could possibly be more peaceful. And then they had the twins, who fell asleep quickly and arose slowly, tint fists rubbing their eyes like they were confused as to why they were feeling that way. Ever-giggling Erica was just like her father, always using her hands. She had a habit of yawning with her arms up, fingers outstretched and fought her tiredness for as long as she could by rubbing her eyes, but golden-haired Jack succumbed to his tiredness almost immediately. How she envied how easily sleep came to the babies.
She opened her arms to Jack and let him crawl into her hug.
"Time for a nap I think," she announced, mostly for Chandler's benefit.
Monica picked up her son and cuddled him to her chest, Jack's hands clinging to her shirt until he fell asleep in her arms.
Monica held him for as long as she could before she lay him down in the pram. She would have held him the entire time he slept if not for the fact that she knew the growing boy needed his rest. carefully, Monica stood, making sure the pram was in the shade of the umbrella before she nestled Jack down against the declined cushions of the seat. She left him uncovered but pulled down the visor of the pram and spread their last towel across it, draping it over the footrest at the end of the machine.
Monica went back down to the water's edge with Jack's yellow shovel and this time collected a full bucket of wet sand for Erica to play with. She sat on the other side of them, facing the pair, one hand balancing against the towel, her knees folded together and her ankles stretching out where her toes were almost out of the shade and in the sun. Despite the pail full of wet sand, Chandler still rationed out the wet sand, getting Erica to doll out spade-fulls into the little red castle mould and helping her reuse it by pushing the deflated castle back into the mould three, sometimes four times over, before going back for more fresh wet sand.
Not long later, Erica whimpered drowsily and cried when she rubbed sand in her eye, but Chandler was on the ball. Not only was he quick on his feet to grab a bottle of water, but he was soothing as he overturned the open bottle to the bottom of his shirt and dabbed the soaked fabric to Erica's eyes while talking her down from her fear and worry in a hushed whisper. Chandler expertly brushed the sand from Erica's eyes, kissed her forehead and, then wiped her hands free of excess sand before laying her down in her seat of the pram for a nap of her own.
When he returned, Chandler stretched over his towel, lying on his back but pressing up on his elbows and craning his neck to look at her. "Remember last time we brought them here and they slept through the whole thing?"
Monica hummed. "They were only three months old back then."
"Where did that time go?" Chandler asked rhetorically. Monica understood the feeling, it felt like only yesterday that she'd been able to safely hold both of the twins in her arms at the same time. She could now too, but it required a lot more patience and effort even though they sort of knew they needed to hold on to her neck or arms, and she didn't always trust that they would wiggle out of her clutches in a desperate attempt to try their hand at walking.
"I'm glad we brought them today," Monica told him. Chandler had been wanting to do it for a while but family outings took a lot of planning and preparation; Tupperware boxes of finely chopped fruit to nibble on and bottled water and towels and baths at the end of the day even that might taint how nice the afternoon had been. "I think they're having fun."
The twins were old enough now that they expressed more than four emotions; tired, hungry, uncomfortable, happy. She was starting to see confusion and excitement and jealousy in the way they interacted and today she was definitely seeing enjoyment.
"Told you they'd like the beach." Chandler might have been lying with his head equidistant and parallel to hers, but body was much longer, reaching the end of the towel, his ankles being kissed by the sunlight. His feet were protruding with the knob of his ankles but up higher his lithe frame gave way to calves that were thick and rounded with muscle.
Monica snorted. "You told me you would like the beach and you wanted to show them something they've never seen before. It was a bonus that the two correlated."
"Oh, come on," Chandler chuckled, rolling to his side to face her, his right arm bent at a right angle with his forearm on the ground, his left keeping him steady just in front of him and his left leg bending slightly, his knee aiming up at the vibrant blue sky. "When have you ever not had fun at the beach?"
Monica snorted. "You using us going to the beach to tease me about saying I would never date you is not fun."
Except that it was. Chandler never let her live that comment down, seeming to delight in it more the longer they were married. He blushed when she told him that she'd mostly said that so she refrained from thinking about the boys in a romantic light, she didn't want a broken friendship or none at all and she didn't think the group could handle another break-up. it was safer if she didn't think about him romantically. In truth, nothing had actually changed in that year, not his behaviour or the way she looked at him save for the fact Monica had done se serious self-reflection and realised the problem with her previous relationships hadn't been that they moved to fast or she was reading too much into simple signs, although they were big issues. It was that she never trusted any of her boyfriend's to be vulnerable or herself with them, her image of 'boyfriend material' was some perfect, mature Adonis, but that only ever resulted in her hanging off the arm of an older man who didn't actually need her in his life. Resetting what she thought she wanted to what she actually wanted in a partner revealed that not only was Chandler Bing a candidate, with his patience and generosity and understanding, but he was The One.
Chandler nodded and grinned, his laughter silent but his head bobbing and his eyes scrunched. "Is for me. 'Not boyfriend material,' my ass."
Monica rolled her eyes affectionately at her husband. As annoyed as she feigned being, she hoped he never changed, thoroughly enjoying the teasing of their friendship that had carried over into their marriage.
"Are you going in the water?" She asked him after a period of silence.
Chandler pouted his lips together. "Hmm, no."
"You can," she told him, remembering how much fun he'd had when Joey had finally pulled him into the water after Monica and the twins had left for the little beachside cafe with Rachel and Phoebe. And this morning, Chandler had changed into his bathers with a happy little grin on his face like he was looking forward to a swim."Get your shirt off and I'll do your back for you so you don't get burnt."
"Monica! In front of the children?" His gasp was overdramatic, his expression shocked but a smirk tugging at his lips until he could no longer hold the 'o' and smiled at her instead. "That's very inappropriate...Want me to do yours?"
His eyebrows wiggled at her and his smile was salacious, any modesty disappearing from Chandler's mind. Monica couldn't control her laughter as it bubbled up from deep in her belly. "Nope, I'm just going to sit here and read for a bit until the kids wake up and want lunch."
"Wake me up when the twins get up?" He flipped his glasses from his head to rest over the bridge of his nose and flopped back against the towel.
His shades weren't completely reflective and Monica watched as Chandler shut his eyes, his chest rising slowly and falling deeply. She'd pulled her Penguin Classic into her lap but was still gazing at her husband when she saw him crack one eye open under his glasses.
"I can feel you watching me, you know?" His voice was husky and low and sent thrills down her spine. "What happened to reading?"
"What happened to napping?" She retorted.
Chandler's eyes closed again, a slight smile on his face despite the sardonic lilt to his voice. "You."
It was a fairly accurate assessment, Monica thought, and she let the matter rest. If Chandler wanted to sleep for the hour that the twins did instead of having fun for himself, that was his prerogative, and honestly, not that surprising.
"Hey," he called her attention back to the present, rolling over to his side again. "So, I've got some annual leave that I have to take before the end of the year, and I know you've got like two weeks worth of sick days that you've saved up that you can use, what do you think about taking a trip somewhere?"
Monica grinned at the idea, giving up on pretending to read. She reached over to put her book back in the bag and then failed to move out of that position, laying on her stomach, pressed up on her forearms facing her husband. "With the twins?"
"Absolutely. While they're still practically free to take places, why not show them the sights?" And then Chandler shrugged. "But also, we could take a couple of days for ourselves if you wanted, have a weekend away like we used to, take Phoebe and Mike up on their offer to babysit so they can practice for when their little one arrives."
They spend the next half hour planning a trip for the family of four, Monica with her diary and a pen in her lap, jotting down their ideas and dates. Vague plots about a whirlwind tour of a foreign country turned into very grounded plans for day trips to museums and beaches and parks that they thought the toddlers would like and that wouldn't be too exhausting for them. They were old enough to appreciate a day out of the house but not enough to understand the nuances of an art gallery, but Chandler didn't think it would matter, especially if they brought Emma and Ben and Joey along, it could be a fun day for the whole group of families and a nice way to catch up that didn't involve an expensive dinner or Monica slaving away for hours beforehand.
Monica never had so much fun as when she was planning events and activities, and when Chandler was involved in the process it was even better. He threw in what he thought were silly suggestions and always sat straighter when Monica showed him that they were good ideas, they just needed a bit of tweaking, and he always reminded her to leave time for fun and free play and not create a schedule that was so tight and strict and structured. Not for anyone else, he said, but so that she didn't get upset when they deviated from the plan.
Chandler pulled out the Tupperware container of grapes and sandwiches for them to munch on as they conversed. A bottle of water twisted open so Monica didn't have to worry about breaking the plastic seal and could just sip from it.
A few times while husband and wife discussed holiday plans, the babies sniffled and shifted but didn't fully awaken. They were pretty good, their kids, at going back to sleep one they'd risen mid-nap. Of course, Monica didn't have much to base that statistic off, but she stood by it that hers were far better at sleeping than anybody else's children.
When they woke up for good, Chandler was the first to react to the soft cries, Erica first and then Jack in reaction to her whines. There was a quick nappy change involved, where Chandler joked he was glad he'd already eaten, but nevertheless congratulated his daughter, "look at how great Erica is at pooping! A real champion," he exclaimed as he blew a raspberry on her belly and made her kick out her arms and legs as he tickled her.
Monica sat the twins up in the sand while Chandler went to wash his hands and throw away the garbage, opening up a container of food for the babies. While solid meals were still far off in their future, the twins happily gobbled up the soft rock and water melon and mango that she'd scooped into balls despite Chandler's protestations that mango balls were an abomination to the art form of eating the fruit.
Jack had perfected the fine motor skill of picking up the sphere of fruit but couldn't quite manage to grip it with two fingers for long. So both he and Erica smashed the little balls of fruit into their mouths. Admittedly, most of it missed and dribbled down their chins.
"Hey Jack," Chandler said as he sat down in front of the three of them. He was obsessed with seeing how clever his children were so that he could brag about them non-stop. Silly little things that Monica knew weren't real indicators of any knowledge whatsoever, but that she delighted in anyway. "Can you point to the colour orange? Which one's orange, Jack?"
Jack's fingers were splayed at the edge of the container that only had rockmelon and mango left in it. He was barely even listening to his father and too young to really understand the request, but Chandler took the gesture as the correct answer and cheered for his son, who grinned toothlessly as he chewed. Chandler chuckled and pulled Jack into his lap, holding the Tupperware into his hands for the boy to reach into.
Erica, on the other hand, was a much quicker eater but just as messy as her brother. She'd long since had her fill the fruit spheres and slurped down a full Sippy cup and was staring, distracted, off into the distance.
"What's out there, Erica?" Monica asked her daughter. "What can you see?"
Erica responded with increasingly agitated hums. Erica bounced as she grunted, waving her hand as though she was indicating to what was distracting her. Monica followed her fingers and grinned. She'd wondered if the twins were going to discover the ocean themselves, or if she and Chandler were going to have to lead them to it, and she was glad Erica had discovered it herself. "That's the ocean. Do you want to go see the ocean?"
Monica shifted to her knees and scooped up Erica into her arms.
Jack was still smashing rockmelon to his lips but stopped, his mouth full and hanging open as he watched his sister get picked up by his mother, jealous.
"Does Jack want to come too?" Monica asked. She bounced Erica on her hip, fixing her hat to her head, brushing down the brim so Erica's neck was covered. She announced her intentions to Jack, mostly for her husband's benefit. "Us girls are going down to the water, the boys might join us in a little bit."
"In a little bit," Chandler directed at her nodding that he'd be with her in a minute and she could go. Then his attention returned to the boy in his arms. "We've just got to get you all cleaned up before we go anywhere, don't we, Jack?"
Monica paused her movements despite Erica trying to get her attention, desperately waving in the direction of the glittering sea. Chandler whipped a napkin out of his pocket and dabbed at Jack's face easily, wiping his fingers while he was at it. It was so simple, something every parent did, but Chandler was so gentle and careful and Monica could feel herself falling harder for him.
As a family, they descended down the beach to the water with increasing eagerness on the twin's faces.
Monica dropped to her knees at the edge of the empty rockpool. She held Erica under her arms as the girl slapped at the water, kicking and splashing excitedly. Monica curled around her baby, holding her tight to her chest with her lips pressed against the girl's hat so that Erica was sitting against her mother's thighs and the rockpool was almost the same as a bath. Erica giggled and squealed when the water receded, confused as to where it went until it came back and she splashed again. Erica screwed up her face whenever she sloshed the water into her eyes, but recovered quickly and continued to smack the heels of her feet and hands against the surface of the water.
Chandler stood to her right at the edge of the water where the waves were lapping softly at his ankles. He held both of Jack's hands above the boy's head, supporting him but letting him think he was walking in the water by himself. Jack was heaving and humming happily, kicking in the water. Standing and walking were still new skills for the twins, they could pull themselves up on the furniture and balance for a few seconds without holding onto anything, but they could only manage one or two steps before they fell over unless she or their dad were holding onto them. Holding Jack's arms aloft as he was, Chandler let the boy think he was doing the walking on his own and he seemed very excited by the idea, his chubby legs jerking as he tried to step over the waves and stamp them down.
After a time spent just playing in the water letting the kids have fun but not splash around too much, another nappy change and a break to rehydrate, Monica remembered her camera. She handed Erica off to Chandler and raced back to their belongings they'd left halfway up the beach.
Up at the beach umbrella with the camera in her hands, Monica stopped dead in her tracks. There were hardly any people left on the beach where they'd set up their things for the day, despite the sky being clear or clouds and the heat and breeze fairly cool and gentle. But that wasn't what struck her.
It was a heady image, the silhouette of her family in the sunset. Chandler with his right hand outstretched, held on to Erica as she kicked at the water in what could only be described as an attempt to hold the water still beneath her foot. Chandler's ugly purple Hawaiian shirt had been put back on but it flapped in the breeze as though it was still unbuttoned. That wouldn't surprise her, Jack hated the feel of fabric and relaxed more against a bare chest. Chandler had Jack held against his left hip, the boy's head at his shoulder, facing away from the glare of the ocean, looking every bit the miniature adult with Chandler's sunglasses dwarfing his serious face. Chandler's head was slightly bent as though talking to the boy, but his spine was straight. Her husband had gained a lot of confidence in the last few years, but none so much as the exponential growth after the twins were born, like he was finally content, his life complete, his pride in the twins oozing out of every pore.
Monica whipped the cap off her camera. She was pretty certain she'd snapped enough pictures over the day to properly document the twins' first day at the beach, but she was going to take a couple more. She wanted to get some close-ups of open-mouthed smiles and sandy hands and Jack in Chandler's large sunglass frames. But she couldn't stop herself from pausing and taking a few shots of her family from the distance because they were damn near gorgeous silhouetted against the glittering ocean foam and the burning orange of the setting sun.