Spring Break XI

It's Spring Break!!

Well, it's not my spring break, but it's someone's. More specifically, it's some high school's.

Yes, my oh-so-relaxing beach weekend has hit a minor speed bump in the form of hoards of teenagers frolicking on my not-so-peaceful shore. They're skinny-- I think we all know about "high school skinny"-- and they're sunburnt, and in some cases, they're chaperoned by the worst kind of parent: the helicopter parent. This special brand of parent hovers near the child, switching fluidly between trying to be hip and trying to be parental. One second they're telling their precious daughter to make sure their tanning oil is spread evenly, and the next they're harping about how the tanning oil clearly doesn't have enough SPF protection. Hey, Hip Mom, it's tanning oil.


So I'm laying on my towel, my eyes heavy from reading, and napping seems like a really great idea. I've listened in on my teen neighbor's conversation all about why she should've gotten the lead role in the play this year instead of that girl that's only in tenth grade, and I'm just beginning to master tuning them out when the teen next door decides to start digging up crabs. He digs and digs and digs, and soon catches the attention of the Teenage Drama Queen and her friend... Their forces unite, and at last they uncover the unsuspecting crab.

And where does that crab go? Straight to my towel, of course. So I was forced out of my blissful beach lull, forced to scurry away from the now-angered crab who's coming at me claws-first. The teens scamper past my towel, kicking sand onto my towel on their way-- oh, gee, thanks!-- and their parents are following them taking picture after picture and instructing their offspring to "Poke it with a stick!"

Brilliant, Hip Mom, just brilliant. You and your equally delightful children are ruining my day