How many other Dads and Moms live vicariously through their children?
I dressed the Boy up in his fancy bathing suit. It's one of thoise UV protective suits and it looks very cool, much like a wetsuit. It's got a black body with sky blue sleeves. We're running down from the parking lot to the municipal pool and folks are smiling and grinning and getting other people to look over at him, he's so cool.
We get to the pool at 3pm and we won't leave until five. At the end of it, he was swimming great distances in the adult pool by himself with no life-jacket. In the adult pool, his feet can't touch the bottom, so this was a huge accomplishment for a Boy this afternoon. His Daddy was very proud. So was his swimming teacher from last year, Lindsey, who was the lifeguard on our side of the pool. I could wax on lyrically all evening about how great he was in the pool. Instead, let me tell you that at some point I noticed that my fingers had shrivelled from being in the water for so long and a Boy was fascinated to see them.
Me (in my best Mike-Myers-as-Simon imitation): I got all prune hands.
The Boy looks and marvels over them.
Boy: They're all wrinkled!
Me: You got all prune hands too.
He looks and is partly astounded to see that his fingers have shrivelled up too.
Boy: Maybe we should iron them.
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