The morning sun spilled golden over the shore, soft and warm against the cool breeze that rolled in from the ocean. Will spread out the thick woolen blanket Eliza had packed, anchoring its corners with driftwood and shoes as Eliza settled Lyra down beside her, tugging off the baby's socks so her tiny toes could press into the sand.
"She's going to get messy," Eliza said, half-laughing as Lyra immediately grabbed a handful of wet sand with a delighted squeal.
"She's already messy," Will smirked, plopping down beside them with a flask of coffee. "She's our daughter."
Eliza rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Lyra's enthusiasm was impossible to miss. Her dark curls bounced as she leaned forward, poking her fingers into the damp sand again and again. She giggled when it clung to her hands, then looked up at them with a victorious grin.
"There's no saving her now," Will declared proudly. "She's a wild one."
"She gets that from you," Eliza replied dryly, brushing a few grains from Lyra's cheeks. "If she brings home a stray dog or jumps into the sea without warning, I'm blaming you."
"I accept full credit," he said solemnly.
Just then, Lyra let out a surprised gasp. She had unearthed a tiny brown snail from the sand—a glossy little thing with a spiral shell. Her eyes widened as the snail slowly poked out its head, waving tentative antennae.
"Oh!" Eliza leaned in. "Look at you, little explorer."
Will chuckled. "You see that? First archaeological discovery. It's in her blood."
"She's not an explorer," Eliza said, but her voice was too soft, too warm to sound convincing. "She's just... curious."
Will gave her a look. "You mean like someone else I know?"
Before she could reply, a sudden gust sent a burst of sea spray over them. It wasn't harsh, just a sharp mist that sent Eliza flinching with a surprised shriek while Lyra burst into laughter, squealing and clapping as the cool droplets sprinkled across her face.
"Oh no," Eliza groaned dramatically, trying to wipe her arms with the sleeve of Will's hoodie. "She liked that."
"She loved that," Will said smugly, already handing Lyra another smooth shell to hold.
"She's definitely more you than me," Eliza muttered, though there was no real frustration in her voice—just the playful pout she knew would make him grin.
It worked.
He beamed. "I mean, I don't blame her. I am fun."
She turned to glare at him, unimpressed. "You're smug."
"I'm smug because I'm right," he said, kissing her cheek. "And because I have a daughter who thinks sea spray and snails are peak entertainment."
Lyra wobbled on her knees, attempting to crawl after a small trail of foam creeping in with the tide. Eliza reached out instinctively, catching her before she tumbled, and nestled her back between them.
The three of them sat like that for a while—sand between their toes, salt in the air, Lyra babbling at her new snail friend while her parents watched the sea roll in and out.
Then Will reached for his phone. "We need a picture of this. Her first snail."
Eliza raised a brow. "You're going to trust yourself with the framing?"
"I'm insulted," he said, already flipping to the front camera and scooting in closer. "Come on, lean in."
With Lyra perched on Eliza's lap, her chubby fingers still curled around the tiny snail shell, Will wrapped an arm around them and angled the phone just right. The waves sparkled behind them, Lyra's smile as bright as the sun.
"Say snail!"
Click.
Eliza laughed, looking at the shot. It was perfect. Lyra's eyes wide with wonder, her little hands proudly holding the shell, Will's face sun-warmed and smug, hers soft and glowing despite her tousled hair.
"We're framing that," she whispered.
"Already thinking of the caption," he said, smug again. "First seashell. First snail. First unstoppable trio."
She groaned and buried her face in his shoulder. "You're such a dad already."
"And you love it."
She did. God help her, she did.
They stayed there a little longer—just the three of them, the sea, and the simple joy of watching their daughter discover the world one grain of sand at a time.