Saturday morning is swim lesson day for my five-year old daughter, Carter. Daddy usually takes her and the quality time is immesurable: "Hold my hand!" "Don't run!' "Get over her" "Carter don't touch that!" "You have to pee now???"
Luckily, there are myriad distractions for me as I sit in the humid sweltering hellhole pool area wilting like a hothouse flower. My favorites are the septegenarian ladies who practice their syncronized swimming. They are a pretty talented duo and can scissor kick while submerged with impressive alacrity.
Today, as they exited the pool, they had the caps off their heads and lo! One is young and one is, indeed, quite vintage. This was quite a shock. I figure they are a mother-daughter swimming team. Who knows but I have to pass the time somehow while my little nipper learns valuable skills (such as throwing a flotation noodle to a drowning person).
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