I worry that my children's lives are too easy. We live in a kids' paradise here in San Diego, and if we ever had to move to someplace harsh and isolated like, say, San Francisco, they'd probably wither up like hothouse flowers.
That's why, when the opportunity arose, I figured it would be a good time to take my two-and-a-half year old twin girls on a whale hunt. What could toughen them up more quickly than being involved in an epic battle with a leviathan on the high seas?
I was disappointed as we boarded the whaling ship to find that accommodations were not nearly as spartan as I had hoped. There were comfortable benches on the top deck, and cushy chairs and tables on the lower two. I had looked forward to a diet of salt-pork and rum during our voyage, but it seemed that corndogs and margaritas were the staples of the galley.
Nor were our fellow sailors the salty characters I had hoped would thicken the hides of my delicate children. Rather, they appeared to be mostly rank landlubbers, stumbling around the deck with their cameras and nachos, taking pictures of one another in decidedly un-seamanlike poses.
Read more at Aiming Low...
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