I took Reese and Rhett to the neighborhood pool today since Avery is having a campout in the library at school. (I don't think Avery will think it was a fair comparison, but I do the best I can.)
Anyway, taking them to the pool isn't relaxing. They are doing better with their floaties this year, but we're not at the point where I am just lying by the pool, reading a magazine. I'm in the water with them, swimming, most of the time. Today, after letting them jump to me 432 times, I suggested that they swim with me so I could get some laps in. After letting Reese "ride" for a while, it was Rhett's turn. He hadn't been on 3 seconds, when he started screaming "A WHALE! I'M RIDING A WHALE!" He didn't say it once. Or twice. It was constant, the entire time he was on my back. I froze for a second, then tried to play it cool. I knew if I stopped, all the spectators would know that I thought I was a whale. Going along with it, I think, conveys the message that I'm completely comfortable with my body and am totally fine with my son screaming that I'm a whale. Still, I stayed under as long as I could before I had to come up for air. Luckily the pool wasn't as crowded as it normally is, but the walk of shame to my bag was still quite, well, shameful.
We need our own pool.