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Tuesday afternoon Little Missy came to me with her eyes big, eyebrows raised, a smile plastered on her face. “What are fun things are we going to do today? Go outside?” she suggested.
Tuesday also happened to be the day the winds were so strong they could pull the hair right from your scalp if you weren’t careful, so I replied, “Um, no, not outside today, honey. It’s too windy.”
She crumbled into my lap and cried, “We never do anything fun!” The offer tumbled out of my mouth before I could catch it: “Do you want to go swimming?”
WHY DID I SAY THAT? I don’t swim; Hubby is the one who takes them to the Y, not me. Especially not the pregnant me. But it was too late. Little Missy was already exuberantly running into the living room to tell her brother G about our exciting plans.
A few hours later we loaded up and drove to the Y. As we pulled into the parking lot, G and Little Missy began telling me about the game we would play, wherein she is the Little Mermaid and G is the shark and I am the fish, and whose side would I like to be on? And I’m all “Whaaa? An organized game?”
But this is what Hubby does. When he takes them swimming he doesn’t sit in the water and watch them splash around. No, he plays games and gets as wet as they do. I had planned on my pregnant booty staying sedentary in the shallow end while they entertained themselves. So I had to break the news to them that Daddy is the fun one and they should just be thankful I’m taking them swimming at all. Of course I said it more nicely than that, something more along the lines of “That game sounds fun! And you should wait for Daddy to play that game. Today I’ll just watch you guys swim.”
And so they swam and they splashed and I stayed in one happy spot the whole time. So while I may not be the most fun parent, at least I took them to the pool.
Tuesday afternoon Little Missy came to me with her eyes big, eyebrows raised, a smile plastered on her face. “What are fun things are we going to do today? Go outside?” she suggested.
Tuesday also happened to be the day the winds were so strong they could pull the hair right from your scalp if you weren’t careful, so I replied, “Um, no, not outside today, honey. It’s too windy.”
She crumbled into my lap and cried, “We never do anything fun!” The offer tumbled out of my mouth before I could catch it: “Do you want to go swimming?”
WHY DID I SAY THAT? I don’t swim; Hubby is the one who takes them to the Y, not me. Especially not the pregnant me. But it was too late. Little Missy was already exuberantly running into the living room to tell her brother G about our exciting plans.
A few hours later we loaded up and drove to the Y. As we pulled into the parking lot, G and Little Missy began telling me about the game we would play, wherein she is the Little Mermaid and G is the shark and I am the fish, and whose side would I like to be on? And I’m all “Whaaa? An organized game?”
But this is what Hubby does. When he takes them swimming he doesn’t sit in the water and watch them splash around. No, he plays games and gets as wet as they do. I had planned on my pregnant booty staying sedentary in the shallow end while they entertained themselves. So I had to break the news to them that Daddy is the fun one and they should just be thankful I’m taking them swimming at all. Of course I said it more nicely than that, something more along the lines of “That game sounds fun! And you should wait for Daddy to play that game. Today I’ll just watch you guys swim.”
And so they swam and they splashed and I stayed in one happy spot the whole time. So while I may not be the most fun parent, at least I took them to the pool.
