The syllabus can prepare itself

Since my plucky little family is handling yet another relocation with such grit and determination, I decided to once again shirk my professional responsibilities in order to take them to the beach. The department graciously provided us with a rental vehicle for this first week, so what else could we do? We had to take advantage of our temporary mobility. We spent the morning enjoying the sand and surf of Waimea Bay on the north shore, where I got to try out the googles I found while painting my father-in-law's bedroom. You just never know what you'll find when you start rummagin around in that house.

A few rocky outcropping provide haven for beautiful tropical fish, some of which I was able to see inbetween periods of blinding myself with salt water (my goggles weren't tight enough).

Tired of elbowing people out of the way for a few cubic inches of room at Passamaquatti state beach? Come to Waimea Bay, where there was lots of open sand.

Did Kaddi hit the marriage jackpot or what? Not only did I take her to Hawaii, I got us free airline tickets. I just might be the best husband in the history of forever.

The day's only complication came when we discovered that Meg's swimsuit had a secret 'crotch-partment'. After an hour of frolicking it became so engorged with sand that it appeared she had filled her swim diaper. This lead to a very awkward attempt (on my part) to discharge the sand and rip out the offensive lining. All of this lead to two slight injuries. Meg experienced substantial chaffing, and Kaddi had sore abdominal muscles from laughing so hard.

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When Jake wasn't trying to ride the bodyboard down the beach into the waves, he found time to kick sand in the face of the locals.

A moment rarely witnessed, let alone captured on film: the march of the lemmings into the sea. National Geographic has already offered me ten thousand dollars for these pictures.