So, I think it was two weeks ago that I decided to take advantage of our new YMCA membership and break out the swimming suits. As soon as Punkin saw his swim diaper, he stood up, stripped naked, and turned off Duck Tales.* "Wimming? OTAAYY!"
It was REALLY cold outside, so everyone at the Y must have thought we were crazy, and there were A LOT of people at the Y that day. WOW. Funnily, though, only two of them were also in the pool....
Anyway, no one under the age of 18 is allowed in the regular locker rooms, even with adult supervision. So that means we were relegated to the Family/Special Needs Bathroom. The floor was wet, and the lockers were in the hallway outside the room. So, I delicately piled all of our clothes on a wooden stool while attempting not to touch the floor as much as possible. *Shudder*
Eventually I succumbed to the sogginess and stuffed our belongings in a locker and walked into the pool room, which, strangely was called something else entirely that I can't remember because I've never read that word before. I almost didn't know what it was; I stood, befuddled, until my reason insisted that we were, in fact, standing in front of the correct door.
We walked in and Punkin almost walked/fell into the water as if it were one solid surface. First heart attack. We climbed into the water. COLD water; second heart attack. I looked around. No towels; third heart attack. I SWORE the lady on the tour told me they had towels.
I decided to ignore the towel issue and enjoy Punkin's feet pressing HARD against my belly. He hates dangling his legs, especially in the water, and insists he touch the bottoms of his feet ouagainst my body at all times. Something about proprioceptive input, I think. I found some pool toys and we threw a plastic fish and fetched it over and over and over and over again.
This grew old after about 30 minutes and I called it a day. This was when I remembered about the towels.
Imagine two very cold, very wet individuals, one of them four years old with huge blue eyes and hair that desperately needs a cut, standing in a bathroom shivering as the mom of the bunch tries to figure out what part of her clothing she can use to dry him off while still maintaining some sense of dignity as she exits the building. He's almost in tears, "Mom! Mom!" until the wet clothes are replaced with dry ones.
We walked out, a sight to see, and raced to the car. We were halfway home. He needs a bath. I left his earplugs in the pool room. He'll lose it if we go back in. It's cold. It's crowded. *Sigh* I guess a stop at the grocery store might be in order. Good thing I have my thick skin on today, seeing as how I have no hairbrush, a wet sweatshirt, and a wild child.
*I recently bought a dvd set of Duck Tales online and we have now watched it 1,532 times.