Once again, in the around-the-world theme, my daughter’s pre-school held a culturally themed party to celebrate a couple of weeks of learning about Mexico. Past cultures were Native American, Dutch, Japanese, and African. [Interesting aside: There were 29 students in five classes (grouped by age). Of about 19 parents present, only two were male including myself. Judging by the way he was dressed and the fact that he was there with his wife, I assume he was on his way to work. That means, of 19 parents present, 0 were stay at home dads. Where does Spike TV get its statistics from?]

The morning festivities concluded with a surreal piñata ceremony in which the children took turns hitting a piñata in the form of a Mexican person. Sort of like Pancho (but not Pancho). With a large stick. Until candy came out. I looked around and no one seemed to mind. In a world seemingly oversaturated with political correctness, I was a little surprised. The PC police haven’t taken over my neighborhood yet! Maybe that’s why I like it so much here.

(I experienced one brief pang of camera envy. One of the moms was taking snaps with what looked like a Nikon D70 with some big glass in front of it.)

Thence to the beach where the remainder of the day and evening were spent frolicking on the shore and shivering around a small bonfire and eating sandy chili dogs and chocolate and marshmallows and enjoying the pleasure of everyone’s company and having a wonderful time. The kids love the beach. It’s the only place in the world where they get a parent-sanctioned opportunity to play in the mud. If you’re ever near the Pacific ocean, you should be able to recognize us easily. My boy is the one who, when encouraged to fill his toy sand pail, puts his head in it. And I’m the one talking to AAA because I locked my keys in the trunk.