My favorite beach house dilemma this year was about appropriate places to eat cherries. One of the great things about summer on the Eastern Shore of Maryland – or Delaware, is the delicious produce. The cherries were craving inspiring.

So my son and his beach week buddy, David, had been playing an elaborate game with the two younger girls for hours when David approached my mom on the porch to ask,
“Where can the girls eat cherries?”
“The kitchen, front porch, or outside.”
“Is there any place else?”
Curious now, Mom asked “No. Why? Where do they want to eat the cherries?”
“Well,” David sighed before he explained, “The girls are being held captive in the closet under the stairs and they want cherries. We weren’t sure if we should let them eat cherries in captivity.”
Understanding perfectly now, Mom clarified the boundaries for cherry pit spitting and told him he would have to figure out a solution.

On the Boardwalk, the boys had conned my mom, the happily indulgent grandma, into a set of rubberband guns. They were diligent about playing within the rules of no aiming above the neck. However, since the girls didn’t have a set of guns and had each partnered with a boy as his scout, they were allotted super powers. My daughter’s first power was a paralyzing shriek which we quickly replaced with a hissing stun poison. Her friend, Dawn, had the power to freeze anyone for a few seconds. This allowed them to get away from the other team and their ammo. In some new twist, both the scouts had been placed in captivity.

The solution was obvious. The girls were permitted a brief parole to feast on cherries after which they willingly and cooperatively returned to captivity in the closet.

I wish that all captors were so compassionate.