Vacationing With Mom and Dad

Every year, my entire family takes a trip to the beach together. I honestly don't know why my parents even go because they rarely ever venture onto the sand. Until last year. My sister-in-law and I are serious tanners when we go and are usually set up ready for bronzing by 9:30 at the latest. So it was around lunch time and we were enjoying watching the kids play and build sand castles when a blinding whiteness and bright blue material caught my eye. It continued toward us and as the brightness grew closer, I realized it was my father in a netted wife beater tank top and extremely has-not-seen-the-sun-in-thirty-years white arms protruding from them.

"Why is your dad wearing an aluminum shirt?" My sister-in-law asked under her breath.

"Girl...I don't know. But he is proud of it and clueless to the fact that he's blinding everyone. I wont even mention the fact that mother is wearing a swimsuit that shows less skin than women in the thirties."

"What kind of bag is she carrying?" Ashlyn asked. "OMG...it's a Kwanza beach bag."

As they approached, they kicked sand on everyone within ten feet but I chose to ignore this due to the fact that my father was wearing a NETTED shirt from the 80's and my mother was carrying a bag that proudly proclaimed her African-American heritage.

"Hey girls!" Mother yelled.

"Foot...man...it's hot out here," My father complained.

"Mother...where did you get that bag?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

"I can't remember. Don't you love it?" She proudly showed it off and pointed out each of its pockets.

"It's great. It looks really functional...but you know that's a Kwanza bag right?"

"Oh yeah...but I figured we are all related anyway so it shouldn't matter."