We really should.

A little spontaneity can be a good thing. Such was the case for our family the past couple of days. Late last week, as I contemplated how the kids and I might celebrate Tony for Father's Day, a thought hatched in my mind. A quick trip to the beach, a one-night stay in an inexpensive hotel, a little sun, sand, and sea. A perfect getaway for the five of us. So that's exactly what we did. We had a great homemade Sunday dinner on Father's Day, and we were fortunate enough to be joined by Tony's mom and grandmother, which was an unusual blessing. Then on Monday our little flock of five headed to Clearwater Beach.

I have noticed over the years that Tony and I have a sort of accidental ritual we perform every single time we hit the bridge that takes us from the mainland Clearwater area to the long string of barrier islands that make up Clearwater Beach. We always say something to the effect of, "Oh, this is so beautiful. Why don't we do this more often?" And we said it again late Monday afternoon, the near-setting sun peeking from behind the beachfront hotels ahead of us. Of course, I know why we don't. It's because even a "cheap" hotel isn't cheap, and we're busy people, and it takes 45 minutes to an hour to get to the beach from where we live. Land O' Lakes is not a beach town. It's not far, in the grander scheme of things, but it's not a keep-your-suits-and-towels-in-the-trunk-in-case-we-decide-to-stop-at-the-beach-for-an-hour-or-two town. So a trip to the beach with three kids, especially for an overnight stay, can be a bit of a production, even for us. Still, we should do it more often.

Our kids felt like it was fancy vacation. They'd barely notice the difference between a Days Inn and the Ritz. All they know is it's a room you have to take an elevator to get to, and there are two beds with matching bedspreads, and you have to use a high-tech card key thingy to get in. They weren't bothered by the fact that the hotel pool was tiny and nearly covered with a layer of tiny fibers that had blown off a nearby palm tree. Even our dinner at McDonald's along the Beach Walk, for that matter, was special. It really doesn't take much.

So we played in the surf and watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico. We stood among the crowd gathered at the pier to watch three boys from New York break it down on a 10-ft-square piece of linoleum they had duct taped to the concrete, sweat pouring from their tattooed forms. We listened to a man play his bucket "drums" with impressive speed and musicality. And we stopped at McDonald's again on the way back to the hotel to make good on a promise of ice cream. Quick showers, pajamas, Spongebob until lights out.

Yesterday, we slept in. Packed up, checked out, off to the beach. It was windy, so the heat wasn't too bad, but the sun was blistering, and all the spots we missed while applying sunscreen reminded us later just how brutal the Florida sun can be, cool breeze or no cool breeze. Caroline, Ellis, and Tony spent the whole time body surfing, leaping into the swells, crashing into the breaking waves. Gillian and I dabbled in sand castle construction, shell hunting, splashing in the shallow surf, and seeking shade at the playground and under the pier. When we left, sun drenched and gritty from the sand and salt, we were relaxed and happy. There's just something about the beach.

So . . . why don't we do this more often?