Skinny Dipping

For several summers in our early,  married-without-children years we rented a beach house in the Hamptons 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)

And so the next year we rented the beach house by ourselves,  and did so for a few more summers after our son Noah was born.  (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 inside 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 

Sometimes dates aren't dates and aren't full of sweet nothings.
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