Barbie's Day in the Beach
September 13, 2020
I took my boys to the beach one summer day back when they were in middle school. We had loaded ourselves in the Honda Odyssey that I drove only when we were going to the beach. I preferred my Saab – it was much sportier.
There we were, my two boys and their friends at the beach in Rye, New Hampshire. We had taken the boys there since they were babies – literally. It’s a great beach for kids, sheltered on two sides by rock jetties, accompanied by a large parking lot, bathrooms, and the requisite snack bar.
With beach toys in hand - apparently even soon to be teenagers still like playing with sand toys – we set up our spot. Toys, chairs, towels, food, umbrella. This is why I needed the van.
As the boys went off to check out the water, which is generally ankle numbing cold, I got my chair situated, my book and sunglasses at the ready and was applying sunscreen when a family of one girl and two boys, ranging in ages from 6 to maybe 9, came along and set up next to us.
I looked over and saw that they too had beach toys and all the standard beach accoutrements that we had. But they had brought one thing we didn’t bring. A Barbie doll. A naked Barbie doll. The little girl who was carrying Barbie proceeded to stab her into the sand up to her waist and ran off to check out the water.
There she was, Barbie stabbed into the sand – boobs sticking out and arms reaching upward. I remember laughing so hard at how peculiar that looked. Of course I took a picture and still glance at it on my phone all these eighteen years later. I refer to it as “Barbie’s Day in the Beach.”
She was in that same spot all day. No one played with her, no one even noticed her. I guess she was a mascot of some kind.
For me, she’s been a reminder of a day at the beach with my boys – one I’m not likely to ever forget.
September 13, 2020
I took my boys to the beach one summer day back when they were in middle school. We had loaded ourselves in the Honda Odyssey that I drove only when we were going to the beach. I preferred my Saab – it was much sportier.
There we were, my two boys and their friends at the beach in Rye, New Hampshire. We had taken the boys there since they were babies – literally. It’s a great beach for kids, sheltered on two sides by rock jetties, accompanied by a large parking lot, bathrooms, and the requisite snack bar.
With beach toys in hand - apparently even soon to be teenagers still like playing with sand toys – we set up our spot. Toys, chairs, towels, food, umbrella. This is why I needed the van.
As the boys went off to check out the water, which is generally ankle numbing cold, I got my chair situated, my book and sunglasses at the ready and was applying sunscreen when a family of one girl and two boys, ranging in ages from 6 to maybe 9, came along and set up next to us.
I looked over and saw that they too had beach toys and all the standard beach accoutrements that we had. But they had brought one thing we didn’t bring. A Barbie doll. A naked Barbie doll. The little girl who was carrying Barbie proceeded to stab her into the sand up to her waist and ran off to check out the water.
There she was, Barbie stabbed into the sand – boobs sticking out and arms reaching upward. I remember laughing so hard at how peculiar that looked. Of course I took a picture and still glance at it on my phone all these eighteen years later. I refer to it as “Barbie’s Day in the Beach.”
She was in that same spot all day. No one played with her, no one even noticed her. I guess she was a mascot of some kind.
For me, she’s been a reminder of a day at the beach with my boys – one I’m not likely to ever forget.
