Tonight Abby had swimming lessons, but as we left Evelyn just lost it.  She cried and cried and cried.  Tears streamed down her face that we would leave without her.  We could have been going to Hell [Michigan] and she’d have wanted to come with us.  Of course somewhere in Nebraska she’d throw an equally intense fit because she was still in the car.  She’s become quite the drama queen.  I’m praying the God sends a miracle our direction to cause her quaint little happy-all-of-the-time attitude to come back.

Pulling into the parking lot at the recreation center I realized that about 25% more people wanted to recreate than could park in the parking lot.  No amount of patience that I could have or have supernaturally given to me was going to free up enough parking spots for me to fit in and get Abby to her lesson in time.  So I parked around the side of the park on a side street and we walked to the pool.  I think we cleared the quarter mile in about 6 minutes which was good given that Abby is so short and I’m so slow for being in the near prone coding position I sit in all day.  [my legal team would like me to state that I don’t actually sit in the prone positionwhile coding lest I be released from contracts for being lazy]

Abby’s swimming lesson went well.  She didn’t panic when the teacher instructed her to rest on her back (while being supported by the instructor’s arms).  She didn’t panic when the teacher tied a lead weight to her middle and dropped her into the deep end.  Abby was well behaved. [My legal department wants me to tell you that no weights were tied to Abby and the deep end of the kiddy pool is only 4 feet deep at most]

Of course the teenaged girl who was doing the group lessons appeared to be maybe fifteen or sixteen years in age if I’m generous.  Its hard for me in my nearly-thirty state to just look at a teenaged person and say, “That person is [some number] years old.”  My ability to judge ages for people on the whole is weaker now, but the teenagers throw me for a huge loop.  I’m even finding some early 20 year olds hard to distinguish from teenagers.  It is as if there’s some conspiracy to make me feel very old now.  It won’t work, I’ll get plastic surgery and face lifts until I’m 45 and then I’ll just let it all go.

I’m hoping to bring the camera to Wednesday’s lesson.  That way you can see pictures of this instructor with Abby and tell me that she isn’t barely older than Abby 😉