[ WP ] Today is the last day the ocean will have waves .

She gave me a big smile over her shoulder, running towards the waves with her arms flapping at her sides. She always did that when she was excited, even if it did get really irritating sometimes. Especially whenever I was busy, she'd come up to me, flap her little hands and beg me to play with her – or something similar. 
 Today, though, she did n't plead with me to braid her Barbie's hair, or help her put the shoes on their dumb little feet. She was bounding towards the ocean, having the time of her life with sand, buckets and water. 
 
 I followed her leisurely, keeping an eye on her. She met the water half-way, cautiously reaching a short leg forward to prod the cold ocean. A little squeak, another smile thrown my way, then she leaps over a small wave that had come to shore. 
 The wave brought some seaweed, and a few feet off, a plastic bag. For a moment, I focused on the bag, trying to read the red font on the side. Twisted beyond legibility, I looked back to my daughter, crossing my arms lightly over my stomach. She said something about the water being cold, then splashed a little bit. I replied something about not going in too far, but I trailed off. 
 
 My daughter was kneeling, her palm in the water. 
 `` Dad, why'd the waves stop?'' She asked me, and I laughed, then joined her in her kneeling. 
 `` They have n't stopped, hun. They're just small.'' I replied, also setting my hand in the water. I used my other to point to the ocean, looking for an oncoming wave. 
 But I could n't find one. 
 I slowly set my hand back down, and placed it into the chilling water along with the other. 
 `` No, they stopped. Pay attention!'' She laid down, face close to the water. 
 
 I laid down too, eye-level with the water. 
 The water was completely flat, undisturbed. 
 There was no steady lap against my wrist, no distant crashing, no curling of white capped waves. 
 My stomach turned, almost in fear. I was n't sure why I was becoming afraid, we were probably just being ignorant and missing the waves. 
 But the ocean was silent. 
 
 I crouched, picked up my daughter from under the arms, pulled her close to me and started to jog towards our towels. She began to complain about wanting to play more, but I did n't respond. 
 Picking up speed, I vaguely remembered a news cast about the moon earlier today. 

