And THAT is Why No One Will Take You Swimming, Son

 

September 2007

 

We’re at a lake with my sister and her husband. My sister and I are wearing swimsuits. No T-shirts, worn as half-assed attempts to cover up, just swimsuits. We are in possession of fully developed senses of self-esteem. We are shining examples of how to be “real” women. We are feeling OK.

 

Until my then 4-year old son opens his mouth.

 

He stands on the dock, points at my sister, and says in a voice that narrowly escapes qualifying as a yell:

 

“AUNTIE, YOUR THIGHS ARE BIG AND WIGGLY.”

 

 

May 2008

 

I’m in a change room in the family locker room at the Y. Now-5-year old son was not in the pool, and he’s waiting on a bench for his sister and I to change. I’m going as fast as I can, but 2 year old girls are wriggly, and 5 year old boys have limited attention spans.

 

I finally get daughter dressed, bribe her with gummy bears to sit still while I get myself dressed.

 

Son can’t take the waiting anymore. I tell him as quietly as possible that I’m in the middle of getting dressed, and that as soon as I have pants on, I’ll be out. He slides under the door, face-up, mechanic style.

 

And says, “Well. There’s something you don’t see every day!”

 

 

September 2008

 

Someone at the Y has a sick sense of humor. They’ve booked 12 babies, 13 toddlers and 6 preschoolers for lessons. All at the same time. The family change room is a freaking mob scene. I put my head down, try to concentrate. I’ve managed to get both kids and myself into suits, through the washroom and into the showers. As I’m congratulating myself on my superior organizational skills, my son pulls on my hand to get my attention.

 

He points at a woman 2 shower nozzles away. In his best stage whisper, he says, “Mom! Her regina’s gettin’ away!”

 

I look to where he’s pointing. The woman is, indeed, wearing half her moneymaker outside her bathing suit.

 

Do I shush him, tell him not to be rude? Do I worry that my son has been scarred by the sight of what looks like a weather beaten squirrel hanging out at his eye-level? Do I reassure him that it is not “gettin’ away”?

 

No. I do not.

 

“Honey, it’s VA-gina, not RE-gina. Regina is the capital of Saskatchewan. Try to remember that.”

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33 responses to “And THAT is Why No One Will Take You Swimming, Son

  1. Thanks for the laugh. I had to read that one out loud to Bill, something I don’t often do as the man is practically deaf and it’s usually an exercise in frustration to tell an entire story unless I’m sitting right next to him, in a silent room that is well-lit so he can read my lips as I speak. But I spoke up, read it off to him and we were both in stitches.

    Weather beaten squirrel… classic!

  2. That was great! Kids are awesome. I love how they always tell the truth, espeically when we don’t want them too.

  3. Your son is awesome. Blatant honesty is the key to happiness, I swear to God. Can you imagine saying to that annoying individual in the office/grocery store/gym/wherever “Wow, you’ve really got that douchebag thing going down, don’t you?” Terrific.

  4. Sputter, ack, uh, ummm, Guffaw!

  5. I think I have a 5 year old hero…

  6. Ah yes, good of you to clear up the Regina issue.
    Nuff said.

  7. Kids see the darnedest things. 😛 And then announce it. 😉

  8. Another Ginny classic.

    “Well. There’s something you don’t see every day!”

    Picturing it, hearing it in my head: perfect.

    M

  9. Sue: I’m glad it translated. And I’ll never look at squirrels the same way again.

    Faemom: Welcome! And thanks 🙂

    Em: Awesome. Embarassing. But, thankfully, the balance tips more often to awesome.

    Allen: Thank you for doing your own sound effects. It makes my job so much easier 😉

    Xbox: I told my son “Do you know that to some guy in the Netherlands, you’re a hero?” His response: “Can I get some chocolate milk?” Because he’s all humble like that. And a touch ADD.

    mysterioso: I just didn’t want to be driving through southern Saskatchewan some day, and have him getting his hopes up.

    Peter: There ARE days I consider putting a roll of duct tape in my purse. But then, what would I have to laugh at?

    Nursemyra: Thank you. I stand by my decision. 🙂

    Michael: Thank you. Seriously, that kid is a book, waiting to happen.

  10. LMAO!! It was gettin’ away. Oh, that’s classic.

  11. Well, I must admit that my thighs are a bit jiggly themselves. But I just checked and the regina is right where it’s supposed to be.

  12. “weather beaten squirrel”

    Need I say anymore? Hilarious, Ginny!

  13. Oh Lord – that was great. Don’t you just love kids? Love to strangle them sometimes, that is….

  14. Maria: I know, I should be writing this stuff down. Oh wait, I am.

    hereinfranklin: Welcome! And good for you, doing the Regina Self-Evaluation. We need to get the word out there: “Women! Make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be! On a bi-weekly basis!”

    aj: Thanks. It kind of wrote itself.

    vinomom: Luckily public strangling is frowned upon, so I have to settle for meaningful glares, and hope he understands. (He never does.)

  15. Thanks for the laugh before bed. B. had his own Regina confusion during this year’s parade. Me: Oh, son, that marching band is from Regina, where your auntie used to live. Him: Mo-om, a regina is on the bottom of a girl.

    Good but not as good as yours. Loved the under-the-stall assessment especially.

  16. That boy of yours has his mom’s sense of humor.

    We had a lady at the hospital who did all the surgical and labor and delivery prep shaves. Regina. The OB/GYNs pronounced it like your son. Poor Lady.

  17. Tara: “On the bottom of a girl.” Oh man, you are I going to have the BEST time when the boys take sex ed.!

    Kitty: I feel so bad for that woman. At least her name wasn’t Delores?

  18. Okay, I would never survive motherhood. I would either die laughing or from an anneurism brought on by mortification.

  19. max: You’ve captured it EXACTLY. It’s pretty much an even split between the 2.

  20. You are like the coolest kid in school. How does one compete?

  21. Oh Rassles! I blush in your general direction.

    (In real life, there were 11 kids in my graduating class. And I still managed to be an outcast. It had to have been some kind of achievement in the field of physics.)

  22. thank GOD your son isn’t around when i hit the beach. he is just too funny!

    still crackin’ up over “weather beaten squirrel”… 🙂

  23. ginabina: Welcome! And maybe we need to put a bell on his neck when we go to the beach. Anyone with body issues, evacuate when you hear the sound of bells!

  24. During a family trip to the zoo as a young child, I was standing with my mother in a crowd at the gorilla house. After closely examining a mother gorilla swinging it’s tit flaps around I loudly proclaimed, “Mom! Look! That gorilla has breasts JUST LIKE YOURS!”

    If karma exists my kids are going to be monsters way worse than I was.

  25. Josh: I find that’s the worst part about kids: the truth hurts.

  26. That is truly awesome. The only thing exciting that ever happened to us at a Y swim class was a breathy man was talking about how cute our son was while DH was getting him dressed in the locker room.

    Second most exciting thing? Some gross ass used my baby boy’s whale towel as a snotrag and I found it with my hand. I wanted to bleach myself.

  27. LOL!! Thanks for the lift in my mood.

    Hey, I recall doing to Y changing for swimming thing years ago. I finally just always had us dressed in our suits under our clothes when we arrived. So much easier to slip off the outer sweats. Then I brought plastic bags for the seats and we just put sweats back on over wet swimsuits and headed home. I mean, it just wasn’t worth it trying to get undressed and dressed. Eeghads.

    Thought it sounds liek a great source of comedy, at least. And education. I didn’t know the capital of Sask….

  28. Lovey: Oh god, those are both awful/gross/awfully gross.

    Writinggb: You are my hero! I can’t wait to try it out on Saturday!

  29. Well, Ginny, hope it works out for ya. I always felt a little like I was cheating doing it this way, but come on…there are LIMITS to what can be accomplished. And I only had ONE little guy — you’ve got both hands full. Good luck. 🙂 Just don’t forget to bring a trash bag to sit on or your car will get all wet…

  30. Wow. At first I chalked your sons “verbalized observations” up to being a kid, but with a mom like you, humor abounding, I have realized that he is just taking after his comical mother, but starting a little early. Great Stuff!!!

  31. writinggb: I think you’ve just summed up motherhood: when we figure out a shortcut, it’s “cheating”; in the work world, we’d be praised for “innovation”. Hmmmm.

    jay3arr: Thanks! I think my kids sensed, early on, that if they were going to make it around here, they had BETTER be amusing.

  32. AHHHhahahahhahahaha!

    Runaway Regina. . . HAHAHHAHAHHAHA

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