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Tuesday, July 10, 2007

to the pool


Papa Bill and Grandma Jean; my Mom, Donna, and me, 1972. I did not like the pool. Or perhaps it was the freezing well water. It's hard to say.

We, the Milton parental unit, have decided that this is the summer of swimming. Swimsapalooza. All hail the pool. Greg loves the water, swimming beneath the surface, surprising me as I hang out on the side.
I'm not a big fan. I don't like my head underwater. Never have.

I remember climbing up the tall diving board, against my will, during swimming lessons. The instructor promised to let me hold on to the long copper colored stick, but I knew she was lying. The minute I hit the water, terrified, she yanked the only thing that made this jump remotely okay with me.

Big jerk.

So, I encourage the kids to grow flippers. They take after their Dad, after all. I will be there, cheering their brave souls on. And asking them to kindly STOP SPLASHING ME.

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