. . . at New Brighton . . .
The easterly wind was blowing which was great for the kites, but not so much for those of us hoping to enjoy some summer temperatures.
Despite the cold, Little Man had a riot of a time. Little Brother, by contrast, was petrified. Turns out he's scared of kites - who knew?
As we walked onto the beach he just started screaming 'Go back! Go back'. The sight of so many giant squid-kites (coming to eat his brain) was clearly more than he could handle and all he wanted to do was leave. He clung to me like a limpet, alternating between burying his head in my neck and demanding to get the hell out of there.
He eventually calmed down, but never once let me put him down. As it turns out, kite day's not for everyone.