One evening we ventured out to the beach with flashlights to watch crabs scurry across the sand. We watched several run around before I decided I was going to impress the children by picking one up. I remember my dad doing this when I was a kid, but I couldn't figure out how to grab them without being pinched. Mark was certain that if I pinched it by the top and bottom of it's rear there was no way it could get it's claws back there to get me.
I should know better by now than to believe him. I grabbed the next crab that scurried by and that sucker pinched my pointer finger so hard I yelled and instinctively flung it as hard as I could to get it off. Poor little Matthew happened to be standing near me watching the scene unfold. As I yelled that crab came flying towards Matthew and whacked him rather hard. Matthew was traumatized. (I'm sure the crab was as well.)
The next day Matthew asked me why I would ever be so mean to him. Why in the world would I hurl crabs at him in the dark?!
The rest of the week Matthew gradually allowed himself to get closer and closer to the crabs on the beach without freaking out, but he never did try to touch one.
Logan and Orin on the other hand were intrigued by the critters. They chased them down, captured them, tormented them, dug extensive tunnel systems in the sand for them, etc. No fear of crabs shown by them - but then again their mom didn't hurl crabs at them in the dark when they were 6.
The arrow is pointing out Logan's display in the midst of all the creativity at the Festival. (Of course I managed to block out the actual artwork.)
After we pried them away from that seeming half dead animal they were fascinated by what the fisherman had caught. We thought someone pulled in a small stingray but it was explained that's not exactly what it was. It sure looked like it to me though. We saw a group of not-too-distant dolphins and lots of guts and nasties.
What are they looking at so intently? Dolphins? Whales? Sharks? Stingrays?
Nope. Guess again.
Still fluttering filleted fish. The poor things. 
One evening we ventured out to the beach with flashlights to watch crabs scurry across the sand. We watched several run around before I decided I was going to impress the children by picking one up. I remember my dad doing this when I was a kid, but I couldn't figure out how to grab them without being pinched. Mark was certain that if I pinched it by the top and bottom of it's rear there was no way it could get it's claws back there to get me.
Logan and Orin on the other hand were intrigued by the critters. They chased them down, captured them, tormented them, dug extensive tunnel systems in the sand for them, etc. No fear of crabs shown by them - but then again their mom didn't hurl crabs at them in the dark when they were 6.
