Swinging In The Rain

We pay a good chunk of change every year to belong to the local Country Club. Not for the bar; not for the restaurant; not for the golf course; and especially not to mingle with the other members (who knew the preppie look circa 1985 was still de rigeur?).

Nope, we joined for the sole reason of the swimming pool. It's a nice pool with at least two lifeguards on duty at all times. There's a snack bar where the kids can charge their candy and drinks, a pool house containing clean showers, and a gaily painted ladies room that has fresh flowers in it every day.

So, of course, it stands to reason that the kids would MUCH rather play in the backyard with the sprinkler. And it's a GIVEN that The Boy will take his clothes off. I can assure you that he started off wearing swim trunks and a long-sleeved shirt. I am deathly afraid that he will get severely sun burnt because, as our friend Sean has pointed out many times,"that's the whitest white-boy I've ever seen".

And I know you can't tell by the way his ribs are showing, but he eats like a horse. A skinny and mean little horse, but he eats.



But mainly he's just a blur. This is what we call "Grandma-vision"; it's what she sees on a daily basis. Bless her heart, I think I need to go out and buy her more chocolate.




In future, I think we'll just steal cardboard boxes from the grocery store for Christmas presents and let them play in the mud after it rains. It'll be a lot cheaper.