DADDY DADDY DADDY CAN WE GO SWIMMING THERE ARE PEOPLE AT THE POOL AND SOME ARE SWIMMING SO THE WATER IS WARM ENOUGH TO SWIM AND I WANNA GO SWIMMING SO CAN WE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GO SWIMMING?!?!?!
“Uh, kiddo? You need new swimming trunks…”
CAN WE BUY ME NEW SWIMMING TRUNKS SO I CAN GO SWIMMIIIINNNNNGGG?!?!
“Yes.”
YAY!!
And we go to the big bad evil shopping center where apparently the 12.2% unemployment rate in Florida has no effect on their business ’cause the place is PACKED with people buying stuff, and we find some nice swimming trunks.
“Do you like the ones with sharks on them?”
YES I DO DADDY.
“Then let’s get them and…”
DADDY DADDY DADDY LOOK LOOK LOOK THEY HAVE PHINEAS AND FERB SWIMMING TRUNKS CAN I GET THEM CAN I CAN I?!?!
“Only if they have them in my size, too. Do you see lean-hipped Daddy-size?”
DADDY QUIT KIDDING I WANT EM PLEAAAASSSEE!
“Let’s see how much they cost… $2000. That’s a bit much…”
DADDY IT SAYS EIGHT DOLLARS. QUIT FIBBING.
So apparently he reads price tags, now. Awesome. I taught him to read… why?
We get home, and if it weren’t for the seat belt, he’d bolt through the car door and change into his new trunks en route to the pool. But the restraint held and I was able to get him upstairs to change properly and modestly. Beach towel acquired and to the pool we went.
DADDY ARE YOU GETTING IN?
“Kiddo, there are icebergs in that pool. It may be 83 degrees in the air, but that water has not warmed up yet.”
YES IT HAS.
“No, it hasn’t.”
YES IT HAS!
“No, it hasn’t.”
HAS HAS HAS HAS!
“You go try it, Captain Penguin.”
/sploosh!
DADDY IT’S REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY COLD!
“Score another one for Science, kiddo.”
And he swam and he swam and he swam, the entire pool to himself, because the college kids were much too busy tanning themselves in their own new bikinis and jim-jams to even contemplate attempting to become members of my son’s polar bear club.
Now of course I’m on the other side of the pool, away from the kids, because it would be creepy for a 41 year old guy to go jump into the skin-parade that is college girls and guys posing for each other. I know my place, right? Right.
I stayed in father-mode, watching the boy swim, throwing his goggles for him to fetch-n-retrieve, and just soaking in the atmosphere and cajoling my son into acting like something resembling a child with a modicum of pool-deportment.
“No running!”
“No yelling!”
“Keep your trunks ON!”
“Get out of the flower bed!”
“TRUNKS ON, KIDDO!”
“No spitting!”
“Stay in the pool area!”
“IF I SEE THAT LITTLE WHITE BOTTOM AGAIN, KIDDO, IT’S BEING SENT HOME!”
Success? I’m claiming it. Or I was claiming it, until this happened:
My son was happily paddling in the middle of the pool and went to get out on the ladder, which is where a phalanx of college girls had assembled to sun and talk. About ten of them, but I wasn’t counting. So the boy hops out of the pool, turbo-walks over to them, cocks his hips to the left, makes guns out of his hands, his index fingers pointing directly at the ladies, and says,
HEY!!!
And the girls look over at the soaking-wet seven year old, in the super cool Phineas and Ferb swimming trunks.
MY DADDY NEEDS TO MARRY A HOT LADY!!!
…
…
It’s not possible to crawl under a pool; that’s proven now.
Out of the mouths of babes, eh?
I love kids. The are so inocent.
You and I should get together maybe your son can teach my son a thing or two LOL….
At least he’s tryin to look out for ya! Best part is, all the girls probably just think he’s adorable now.