OMG you guys, let's talk about THE POOL some more.
When I went to camp as a kid we did something every once in a while called a "Quick Dip" where my whole cabin of girls, led by our two counselors, would run down to the waterfront right before bedtime in our swimsuits, kick off our sneakers and socks (no Crocs/sandals at camp, yo), and run into the water for ten to fifteen minutes of aquatic merriment before someone blew the whistle and we all ran out, put our sneakers and socks back on, and ran shivering and happy back to our cabin to put our jammies on and get into bed.
I loved quick dips.
Which is why I attempted a quick dip right before dinner last night with the kids.
Obviously, those happy memories of camp quick dips clouded the memory that I HAVE NOT DONE ANYTHING QUICKLY SINCE November of 2006 (Except showering, dressing, and going to the bathroom by myself and my ability to do those things fast rivals that of a plebe at the Naval Academy).
So yesterday when I grew tired of reading about extreme value analysis and the peak over threshold approach I decided it was time for some mandated family fun time. Mary and James were asleep and our sitter was there so I announced to Charlie and Wes that "HEY GUYS GET YOUR SUITS ON WE'RE GOING TO THE POOL FOR A QUICK DIP!"
My words and enthusiasm barely penetrated the Wild Kratts haze.
"Come on guys! Let's go to the pool!"
Wes slowly turned around with a bored expression. "The pool? The one with the slide?"
"Sure!" I replied. "Get your suits on!"
Twenty minutes later the TV had finally been turned off and they were milling around in the kitchen.
I gathered up swimsuits from the pile on the laundry room floor, tossed them in their general direction, then changed into my own suit in the downstairs bathroom while yelling commands from behind the closed door.
"Put your suits on! We don't have much time! Miss E is coming over after dinner! This is a QUICK trip to the pool."
When I emerged Charlie was wearing his suit and Wes was standing in the kitchen, naked and fidgeting with the refrigerator magnets.
After I loudly reminded him to put his SWIMSUIT on so we could go to the POOL I realized my mistake.
"Are we going to da pool? I want to go to da pool!" asked a small voice from the top of the stairs.
And then Mary squawked over the baby monitor.
OK, *EVERYBODY* get in the car. We are *ALL* going to the pool! Won't that be *FUN*.
Somehow, we all got into the car (somehow's name is Miss N and she is our wonderful sitter who joined us at the pool), and then from the car to the pool deck where Charlie and Wes disappeared to the slide and James and Mary huddled together on the steps of the shallow end, both fully clothed in suits, rashguards, and hats under the UV-protective awning. James was also wearing a lifejacket. For a moment, I appeared to be a Good Mother. Until Charlie returned to the shallow end long enough to pull the swim trunks off a helplessly floating James--literally a sitting duck.
Twenty-five minutes of honest-to-goodness aquatic merriment and one timeout later:
"OK guys! It's time to go! Remember this was just a quick dip! Time to go make dinner!"
This announcement was met with surprise and dismay.
BET YOU NEVER SAW THAT COMING.
Charley's "one last trip down the slide" ended with him hopping on one foot alllllll the way from the deep end to the shallow end where our chair was. This took only slightly less time than Pluto's orbit around the sun. Wes used the time to beg for fruit snacks out of the vending machine. Mary screamed in indignation at being left to sit on a lounge chair while I wrapped a towel around my waist and put my flip flops on (an outfit I wore to the pharmacy on the way home, God Bless Texas, and drive through pharmacies).
Quick dip took just over an hour. Next time I'm just going to bring dinner and shut that place down.