We arrived at Crescent Cove, a tiny beach town with a rickety pier and the best shaved ice this side of the highway. Beach Mama had a laminated schedule: 9 AM sandcastle engineering, 11 AM snorkel safety drill, 2 PM sunscreen reapplication (mandatory). She blew her whistle at seagulls.

"Did Nuki Nuki tell you to write that?" she asked.

I smiled. Beach Mama had finally learned to float.

So we rebelled.

Here’s a short story based on that title.

She sighed, then reached over and gave Nuki Nuki’s loose button-eye a little twist. "Okay, Nuki Nuki," she whispered. "Show me what you’ve got."