Y’all, as I was looking back on pictures of our last week in Savannah, I couldn’t help but feel a little red…
The baby dined at Social Tybee in nothing but his nappie. Granted, Tybee Island might be the only place on earth where this attire (or lack thereof) didn’t turn a single head.
We bathed the littles in the sprinkler in my parents yard not once, not twice, but every single night we were there. And while this is standard operating procedure in my neck of the woods (and likely a contributing factor in our difficulties with Miss J), I shudder to think at what my parents neighbors thought.
Daddy-O flexing his muscles and making a spectacle of his (temporary) scull and crossbones tattoo at the beach. You see, after barrels of grog on our PCB Pirate Cruise, one adult in our party (can’t recall who) thought it would be “fun” for us all to get the pirate tattoos offered to the littles on board. I’d like to propose that they re-brand this particular variety to semi-permanent seeing as I took off a good layer of my skin trying to remove mine and Daddy-O’s is as good as new two weeks later.
So what say y’all? We evidently have a little redneck in us. What good Southern girl doesn’t?