We survived! Twenty-three people, seven nights, one beach house. Compared to previous family vacations, this week ranks pretty high. Here’s why.
For starters, the “littles” are getting older. Three of my nieces were drowning victims waiting to happen last year, but this summer they can all sort of swim. And more importantly, they can truly be threatened with, gulp, “No iPad time!” You can bet those girls toed the line (quite literally in the sand!).
True, my youngest sister still has two kiddos in diapers, and they cried a lot. I mean a lot. But their antics were more than offset by copious amounts of alcohol. Wine, beer, rum, vodka, tequila, even a fifth of Jack, were consumed in vast quantities, making the boxes of SPF 70 we went through look like we were wintering in Siberia. And that’s saying something, as most of us are pasty gingers.
There were no severe sunburns, only one fight (the result of an impromptu Dr. Phil session where one of my nieces told her sister she didn’t like her new haircut), and with the exception of another niece projectile vomiting in a rental car on the way to the airport, no illnesses. We enjoyed sandcastle-building, boogie-boarding, storm-watching, Dominoes, Jeopardy, eating, reading, fishing, original performanc, and actual, live, face-to-face, conversation.
At the last night’s dinner, we played High-Low, where everyone shares the best and worst parts of the trip. My dad, who had experienced limited beach time because of a twisted ankle, said it best: “I just like being here with all of you.” Me, too.
Here’s to quality time with family. Cheers!
Peace out.
