They won’t let us show it at the beach

Oh they won’t let us show it at the beach

no they won’t let us show it at the beach

They think we’re gonna grab it if it gets within our reach

And they won’t let us show it at the beach Shel Silverstein –

Show it at the Beach

We unexpectedly found ourselves with our two sons at the lake “beach” (a four foot strip of sand) with an assortment of 1-4 year old friends of ours.  There’s another group, a smallish family reunion, a stone’s throw away.  Oliver walks into the water til the water laps at his shorts.

After a few quick whispers with Michelle, I say, “Take off your shorts, Oliver.  We don’t have a change of clothes for you.”

Not one to turn down the offer, Big O exposes his striped undies and goes back into the water to play more.

Five minutes later, the underwear is triumphantly removed and he splashes back into the water.  Naked boy run free.  Show it at the beach.  No one seems to mind.

Oakley spews a breast milk tidal wave down my clothes and onto the beach, so I’m off to the vehicular transportation to grab a burp cloth (we really weren’t prepared to be at the beach).  The park is beautiful this time of year.  I laugh when I walk by the family reunion’s pavilion.

When I get back, Michelle urgently takes the cloth from me, hands me Oliver’s shorts, and quickly says,  “Put these on Oliver.”

I ask Oliver to get his shorts on after we walk to the grass so he can brush the sand off his wrinkled toes.  Being a four-year-old, this takes a minute to do, and Michelle, as forcefully as she can while still being nice, has asked me two more times to get his shorts on.  I knew something was up, and could make a few guesses.

As we walk up the hill, Michelle says that someone from the family reunion group said they were going to call the cops if the kids didn’t put their clothes on.

“Do you really think that’s alright to do?” he sneered. “I don’t know if it’s legal, but I can certainly find out for you.”

I smile.

“It’s kinda funny” I say, “That they would be giving you public etiquette lessons.”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ll see.”

We walk by the family reunion’s pavilion and Michelle, at that moment, perfectly fits the description of someone who would say, “I can’t believe the nerve…!”

There, on the concrete slab of the pavilion, dwarfing the chalk drawings of flowers and animals, is a gigantic dick and balls, ejaculating onto a butt.

We walk the rest of the way, eyes in our minds, smiling blankly as the sun sets over the lake.  Absurdity brings much pain and joy.

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