Five-year-old Elsa wants nothing more than for her mother to get her hair wet. I am not sure how, but this perceptive young girl has noticed her mother’s disinterest in water.

We are at a resort with more pools per capita than a Fantasy Football convention. Oh, and it’s located on the Mediterranean Sea.

So Elsa’s mother’s disinterest in swimming falls in the category of a Must Overcome. Not only is it a Must Overcome, but Elsa’s mother decided long ago that despite her lack of love for all things water (and swimming suits), she will overcome those fears if it is something her children love.

And her children love swimming. Officially.

So Amanda dunked her head under water, and the seemingly never-ending smile of previously referenced five-year-old, somehow, grew even bigger and brighter.

It’s been a great trip so far. Our room is a bit underwhelming (feels a bit like a hospital room), but we spend very little time there because just meters from our front door are a kids club (with a pool), a small pool, which is attached to two larger pools, which have water slides (with no height regulations, points out one of our seven-year-olds). In our recent travels I have noticed we’ve decided on the quality of a hotel (or AirBNB) based on the quality of the pillows and the bed sheets, but at this all-inclusive resort we will not be basing the quality of our stay on the things inside the room. Our hotel room floor (and our crevices) is constantly full of beach sand, and that’s exactly as it should be.

The food is good, the beer is cold, the sand is soft, the adventures aplenty, and the breeze off the ocean speaks niceties to any who stop to listen.

TODAY’S FEATURE PHOTO: There is a nightly performance on an outdoor stage just meters from the ocean. So close to the ocean, in fact, that the ocean sounds act as background music for the performances. Right before the performances, some nice ladies come out and spend about 30 minutes dancing with the youngest resort guests. The photo you see was taken during a Turkish version of the Chicken Dance. You can see our daughter Elsa sitting on the side of the stage atop one of the stage’s mighty support columns. Two nights ago she watched from the crowd. Last night she watched from the stage. With any luck, they’ll be part of the “dancing babies” (what our kids call it) tonight.