Is the Brady-Bundchen (“The Brady Bundch” maybe? I’ll work work on it.) the most impossibly perfect family in the world? By way of full disclosure, I went to the beach on Father’s Day as well. My darling Irish Rose and my lovely sister and I hung out at Green Harbor in Marshfield for a few hours in the morning. And with all due respect to us and everyone else there, it didn’t look anything like this. We looked like a beach scene from “Jaws,” all middle-aged suburbanites trying to suck our guts in or keep the butt-flab from hanging our from under our bathing suits, mixed with a few gawky kids and dorky teenagers. The Bradys take a simple candid picture playing on the beach and it looks like it’s off the home page of an all-inclusive family resort you’ll never be able to afford.
I suppose it begs the question of who exactly took the photo if they’re all in it. But that’s neither here nor there. The major takeaway is that they are to families what mom and dad are (respectively) modeling and quarterbacking: The best there ever was.