Beach activities for the bored and restless

Ah, the beach in late summer. A perfect time to relax, soak in the sun and surf, and make keen observations about your fellow beach goers, most of which will likely lead to totally erroneous conclusions. But what is a beach for, if not to dare to do great things, though failure be inevitable?

As our interest in our reading material waned on a trip to the beach recently (Mr. Monk Helps Himself, How I Became a Quant: Insights from 25 of Wall Street's Elite), and feeling that we should take some interest in our surroundings, the Hero and I began to engage in constructing stories -- as well as a highly detailed family tree -- about the party in front of us. (It must be admitted that the Hero probably would not have embarked on this activity without some encouragement from me.)

This party consisted of six individuals: two men, one woman, and three kids. Both men had dark hair, and we differentiated them as Curly-Haired Dad, based on an obvious physical trait, and Parking-Meter Dad, based on the latter's departure at one point to "go feed the meter." Curly-Haired Dad was obviously the father of the blonde girl, Maddie. We knew this was her name the same way everyone within earshot knew it was her name: "Maddie! Let's see what the water's like!" "Okay, time to get out of the water, Maddie." "Maddie, just sit down and relax for a while." "That's enough pouring water on people's heads, Maddie," etc.

Parking-Meter Dad was, we brilliantly deduced, father to the other two children, whose names he did not need to broadcast to the entire beach, as they basically sat and quietly scratched at the sand for a long time. The girl, about 9, stood around in full clothes, shoes, and socks, while Parking-Meter Dad carefully laid down three overlapping towels. "There," he said grandly to the girl. "Your sand-free environment awaits."

I turned to the Hero. "I wouldn't mind a sand-free environment," I said. This was ignored.

But the young blonde woman was a mystery. "Hmmm," I said. "She's young...doesn't really seem comfortable enough around the kids to be a mom...maybe a nanny? But two dads? Do they share her?"

But then I noticed the wedding ring on the "nanny's" finger. And heard the blonde girl call her "Mama." 

"Scratch the nanny, I guess," the Hero said.

"Okay," I said, switching gears. "Parking-Meter Dad is single. Probably the two couples were friends, and then the divorce happened, and now the other couple is trying to support the dad in his new solo role."

"Two couples? Divorce?"

"Parking-Meter Dad doesn't have a wedding ring," I said. "So, no wife, ergo, he's divorced. The other couple must have been friends with them."

"Maybe they're related," the Hero suggested.

"Mmm-mm, they don't act like they're related. More distant. Friends."

At this point Parking-Meter Dad admonished Maddie for getting sand all over the carefully planned sand-free environment.

"So, Maddie is Parking-Meter Dad's daughter," the Hero said.

"No, Parking-Meter Dad belongs to the two dark-haired kids," I said.

"Then why is he telling Maddie what to do?" 

"Everyone wants to tell Maddie what to do," I said. "I want to tell Maddie what to do. Or not to do."

I noted that Parking-Meter Dad seemed unwilling to be affectionate with his two children. "Hmm," I mused. "I wonder if that's why his wife left him...?"

The Hero began making noises about leaving me to go get some lunch, and we had to abandon our musings. There was much more to be mused upon...like how unusually quiet Parking-Meter Dad's kids were, and how the girl seemed utterly uninterested in engaging fully with sand or surf, and why Blonde Woman did not get involved with any of the kids, and why the three kids didn't really play much together...

I'm sure eventually we'll come up with something.