The other day, as I was sitting in my old dilapidated beach chair, knee deep in the ocean, I watched the baptism of a new beach kid.

The ceremony begins with the arrival of a family, loaded with umbrella, stroller, towels, coolers and, of course, beach chairs. After establishing their tight little section of territory, the father brings the newest member of the family – usually about a year old, without a clue about what is to happen – down to the sea.

As soon as the father reaches the water, he stops and bounces his child up and down, attempting to foreshadow the wonderful experience he hopes the youngster will have.

Back at the shore the rest of the family watches. I can almost read their thoughts wondering if their son, daughter, sister or brother will love or hate the saltwater. The mother has the most serious expression, because this could be the first time she is not at the center of a new experience her baby is about to have. The deeper the father walks into the water, the quieter the older offspring become.

Then the moment of truth arrives. The father, now waist-deep in the ocean and bouncing up and down in order to reduce any possibility of splashing, stops talking. For the next few seconds he does his best to reassure his offspring that the following few seconds will become a highlight in his or her life.

In one quick movement, the father bends his knees and lowers his child into the water. As soon as he lets the waves of our ocean wash over his child, he lifts the toddler and hopes the experience was pleasurable for both of them.

Now is the time when the child decides whether or not to become a beach kid. If a smile appears, then it is the beginning of a long love affair with the beach.

If the child waves their arms and hands in excitement, then friends will be found while playing on the beach. Sandcastles will be constructed with deep moats to stop the flow of the tides. Time in the sun will be the best time of all.

But if the shock of the cold water scares the child, then the ocean will be something that will never be loved and explored. If the child begins to cry, then any time spent on the beach will not be a pleasant one.

On this particular occasion, the child obviously loved where he was. (At least I think the child was a “he.”) His smile ran from one ear to the other. As soon as the father jumped up to protect him from the ocean’s waves, the child tried to work his way out of his father’s arms in order to once again feel the glory of where we all came from.