Pool Blues

Wowee zowee.

I thought a trip to the pool would be a nice way to spend an hour in the morning. Was I ever wrong. I optimistically paid for 2 hours of parking, gathered Owen in my arms, and slung the diaper bag and a bag with our pool wares over my shoulder. We trudged into the Aquatic Centre under the raindrops.

I don't know if it was the overstimulation, splashing, kids yelling, the sound of dryers, the tiles, or the lifeguards, but Owen was NOTHAVINGANYOFTHISTHANKYOUVERYMUCH.

He started freaking out as soon as we entered the "Family Change Room." I wanted to freak out too. Mums and dads in one room, changing for the pool? Thank goodness for the cubicles and the fact that I had thought ahead and put my bathing suit on at home. He had a little piss all over the communal change table, but nothing that this mum couldn't handle. He looked at the row of lockers and just LET IT RIP, tears and everything. Baffling.

After a quick mandatory spray in the shower, we entered the pool area. Then he started honking. Like a goose. Like a wounded, sad goose. It's his latest noise. It's very raspy and breathy and he continued to honk for the remainder of our visit.

The kiddie pool is no more than 2.5 feet deep and lukewarm. He just didn't take to it. He'd either honk away or focus intently on some random kid in the pool, staring at him/her silently. I couldn't stop giggling each time he'd honk. #1 Mum Award to me, please! Yeesh.

When we got back to the car and I plopped him in his car seat, he gave me a look that said, "Don't you DARE do that to me again."