All familiar characters still belong to Janet.

We left the water after a few more minutes of play, both with each other and with our daughter, and then we got started drying off. Steph and Olivia went to sit under the canopy/tent while the men and I chose to make some Vitamin D as the sun dried our bodies. Bobby and Cal aren't good at sitting still and doing nothing. Even during stakeouts, they're mentally planning how the takedown will go or what they're going to eat when they get home. A relaxing day at the beach is no different. They'll enjoy it, but their minds will remain active.

"Hey, Olive-Tot," Brown said, getting himself a cantaloupe-nail polished foot-shove from Steph for adding onto Olive's name again, "look at this."

He had pulled a waterproof knife from the pocket of his trunks and was in the process of building something using the octopus pail and ridiculously small - in comparison to his hand - watering can from the fourteen-piece sea creature set my mother had brought over to the apartment for Olivia before we left. She had to kiss her granddaughter enough times to cover the days we'll be gone. She's not going to take it well when she realizes that I intend to surprise my women by tacking on a few extra days so we can stop and spend time with Julie before we head North again. Steph, Julie, and Olive, will be happy, but my parents will be asking how come their tickets never appeared. I can already foresee a family Christmas trip in our future.

"What are you making?" Steph asked both men, now that Cal was helping out Bobby.

I joined my family under the canopy and handed Olivia a red plastic shovel so she could show her Uncles how to play correctly.

"Every Beach Queen needs a throne," Brown answered, cutting off chunks of the wet sand Cal is quicker in dumping.

"Had I known you two can work construction, I'd have given Louis more days off," I told them.

Steph had slid with Olive to the end of the blanket so our baby could watch what they were doing while playing in the sand herself if she wanted to. She did. Her little legs started moving as soon as something different touched them.

"Look, she's making a sand angel," my wife said to me, supporting the little body in front of hers so our baby wouldn't eat or land face-first in the sand. "Or maybe it's more of a fortune cookie she's making, since she's only using half of her body."

"Figures, Angel-Face is trying to one-up us," Cal stated, after adding his own touch to the literal beach chair.

Since Olivia is a tiny queen, it didn't take them long to build something her size. Bobby scooped her up and placed her in her seat that they'd purposely designed to face us. Her Uncles were kneeling like sentries beside the simple square-based arm 'chair', as she began digging her bare toes into the sand.

Olive leaned forward faster than Cal was comfortable with, but he was quicker, putting two hands out in case she was falling ... when in actuality she had only been trying to grab fistfuls of the beach. It's instinct for us to prevent a disaster before it happens, but that hadn't been just a reflex on his part, it was a safety measure based on pure love and undying devotion. I know exactly what Cal was feeling when he picked Olivia up and kissed her hat-covered head as he turned her away from the sun to watch a pair of parasailers go from ocean to air. The angle from where Steph and I are sitting gave the illusion that our daughter's outstretched arm and open hand were bringing the adventurers back down to earth.