A while ago my hubby’s company had a party at a local pool with a wave machine. We enjoyed riding the waves on the tubes and just chillin’ in the pool. The six and nine-year-old girls went around making up stories about all the sea creatures in tile on the pool floor. Our three-year-old got a red popscicle which she devoured, but not before she got enough on her face to look like the Joker. I wasn’t the only one who thought it. The lifeguard said to me after my three-year-old had been in the pool a while, “at least she’s been in the water long enough to wash off the Joker smile. That was kind of creepy.” Yes indeed.
The three-year-old also kept going around and around the same exact circle of ramp/pool. It was all entertaining and fun. But the best moment came later.
The wave pool would cycle on and off for fifteen minutes. During one of the last “off” cycles, my hubs took the opportunity to float on his back and just relax. For a long time. Long enough that one of the life guards apparently started to get worried.
I was just completing another lap with my daughter when I saw the lifeguard get up from her chair and start towards my husband. She looked at me and said, “Is he OK? I’ve just seen him floating like that for a really long time now. Is anything wrong?”
I assured her that he was fine, went over to him, and told him all about it. We laughed about his apparent problems in the water.
The evil wife in me wanted to tell her, “No, I don’t think he’s OK. You’d better run over there and start mouth to mouth right now! Help him! Call 911!” I would have loved the look on his face. It would have been highly entertaining. But wrong. So I didn’t.
I still got a laugh that she thought he was in danger. He wasn’t even face down. But kudos to the hyper-vigilant lifeguard. I know our lives were in good hands that night.