Skinny Dipping

For several summers in our married-without-children years we rented a beach house with our good friends J and K.  After a few years our friends – serious fishermen by then – opted for the mountains instead and bought a house near a trout stream.  (See Catskill Weekend)

We rented that wonderful beach house by ourselves for another summer or two,  and after our son Noah was born,  and before we moved on to summer houses in other climes,  we continued to rent it for a few more years.   (See The Great Hampton Babysitter Heist)

In fact we potty-trained Noah on that Hampton beach by letting him frolic in the sand and the water without a bathing suit or diaper.  The theory was without his diaper he’d be more aware of his pressing needs.   We’d then have teachable moments and could rush him to the beach toilets,  and as I remember the strategy worked!

Of course we were responsible parents by then,  so it was only our toddler who went skinny dipping.  But thinking back to those earlier,  carefree summers at the beach house with J and K . . . that’s another story.

Dana Susan Lehrman 


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