We put our towels down right next to this giant family setup. I’m talking full beach invasion mode: umbrellas, chairs, coolers, floaties, sand toys, buckets, snacks, sunscreen, and probably a backup generator somewhere. The dad was building a sandcastle like he was defending medieval Europe, the mom was running a one-woman sunscreen department, and the kids had the energy of three golden retrievers on espresso shots.
Luca leaves to grab us drinks and two minutes later everything goes off the rails. The tiniest kid, this little girl with floaties bigger than her whole body, starts toddling straight toward the water like she’s on a mission from God. The dad is too busy reinforcing his sandcastle battlements, the mom is arguing with the middle child about why sand is not meant to be eaten, and no one notices the tiny one drifting toward the ocean like a lost Roomba.
So I get up, stop her from going knee-deep into the Atlantic, and she looks up at me, smiles, grabs my finger, sits on my towel, and basically adopts me.
The mom notices eventually, looks at me, and instead of panicking goes, “Oh thank you, can you keep an eye on her for a second? We need to reorganize everything.” A second. Sure. Why not.
Ten minutes later I’m still there. Floatie Girl is handing me fistfuls of wet sand like she discovered currency. The middle kid shows up and asks if I know how to build a “tunnel fort,” and hands me a plastic shovel like I’m his new employee.
Luca finally comes back with drinks, sees me surrounded by children, and just says, “I leave you alone for five minutes.”
The parents meanwhile have completely accepted me as part of their operation. The mom hands me a juice pouch as “thanks,” the dad waves at me like we’ve been coworkers for years, and the grandmother literally tells Luca, “He’s very good with kids, you should keep him.”
At this point I’m too deep in the mission to escape.
Then the wind decides to create a dramatic plot twist. A huge gust knocks over their umbrella and launches it across the beach like a medieval spear. The dad shouts, sprints after it, trips halfway, takes down an inflatable flamingo, and the flamingo drifts into the water. The kids scream like they lost a national treasure. Luca is laughing. The mom just sighs like this is her normal Wednesday.
And suddenly I’m the one assigned to rescue the flamingo. Me. A man who does not know this family. But sure, why not, I’m already the unpaid babysitter.
I run into the water, grab the flamingo, almost fall twice, and come back soaking wet while Floatie Girl claps like I just won gold at the Olympics.
Finally the chaos ends, the family packs up, the mom thanks me, hands me a bag of snacks “for helping,” and the grandma kisses me on the cheek like I’m officially part of the family tree now.
They leave. Luca looks at me, shakes his head, and says, “You realize you worked a full shift for people we don’t know?”
Yes, Luca. Yes I do.
I went to the beach to relax. I left as someone’s temporary uncle.
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