Today was one of those incredibly warm days. Suffocating to some, exhilirating to others. The kind when you walk outside and your shoulders are already cringing from the sunshine, your freckles rallying for position. I loved basking in it, but there was no time for that. I had a mission; get the pool filled before the babies woke up. That way it would be like bathwater by the time my toddler and I ventured in.
I filled 'er up and went back in to the cool shade of the kitchen, only to hear that she was awake and calling for me. She isn't one to ponder in her crib after a nap; she wants out and she wants out fast. So, off we went to do the perfunctory bum change and book read. She was thrilled to hear that the pool was filled up, and pointed to the outside window so that I certainly, absolutely, knew that she was interested.
In the pool we both went, sunscreen slathered on and hats affixed. It was, of course, much cooler because the sun hadn't had the time to do it's thing. But, we pushed on and in. Both my husband and I have introduced splashing to her, and she seems a bit unsure...you can almost read her mind: 'This feels kind of naughty, am I supposed to be doing this?'. For me, I want her to splash like crazy. Even in the tub. What fun is a splashless bath or romp in the pool? I don't want her to be the overly-sensitive kid at the pool party that can't handle a good splashing and needs to get out of the pool because she's ticked off. Then embarassed that she made such a fuss. I remember those moments, whether it was me or something I saw, I don't recall. But it left a taste in my mouth that some buggy pool water and the sound of her giggles, will surely wash away.
