Going to the beach is not for the faint of heart.

The female wing of the family decided to take a trip to the waterfront last weekend, and Dad was immediately not on board.

To Dad, the beach means sand in everyone’s clothes, sand in our bags, and worst of all, sand in his precious car.

To Mom, the beach means a place to relax and get fruit drinks with little umbrellas in them.

To my sister, the beach is a place to build sandcastles and play volleyball.

To me, the beach is a place to get repeatedly knocked over by waves until my skin is completely exfoliated.

I immediately took the beauty angle. “Dad,” I said, “Don’t you want me to be pretty? The beach will make my skin so much smoother.”

Dad shook his head. “You’re already pretty.”

Darn. That was a hard response to tackle. Then Mom

See Full Page