The one with just words (part one)

In line for winning Worst Blogger Ever for the 85th consecutive month now. So instead of whinging on about how I stress about not having photos to accompany my posts, I’ve decided to just roll with the words for now. So here’s the first of the pictureless posts.

The child and I went to the pool today. I’m pretty sure that I used going swimming as part of my bribery package to get her to move to Auckland without too much fuss. This useless mother just took her sweet time pulling through with the goods. But today was a day that I had some compulsory mother-daughter fun scheduled in so I had to go somewhere or do something so it didn’t end up being the same old story of me staring at my laptop and the kidlet watching frigging care bears.

I’d thought originally that I’d drag another small person with me so that I could break out the knitting, but it isn’t often that I have days with just Han, with no work or school interrupting. And my boss suggested instead of trying to drag Han to the office, or [probably unsuccessfully] work from home, that I take the day off to hang with Hannah. And given that time spent with Hannah increases chances of good behaviour, I decided I too could don some swimwear and join her in the chlorine swimming pool. About here you’re probably glad I didn’t include any pictures huh? Especially seeing as I’m happily growing a layer of insulation on my legs to see me through the Winter. You’ll just have to take my word for it that I was looking H.O.T.

So I spent a couple of hours hanging out in a pool trying to count the diseases I could see floating past me. I figured at the very least I’ve contracted athlete’s foot, and the worst? I really don’t want to think about it. *shudder* I even think one of the lifeguards was trying to flirt with me, spraying us with the hose as we walked past. Did he not see the legs?! Oh, and hose spray flirting? How 13 year old is that? Needless to say, he didn’t get my number.

The best bit was though, that Hannah and I didn’t end up screaming at each other for that whole 2 hours. Oh, except the part where she ran into reception – the “Dry Zone” – and I tried to stop her unsuccessfully, before she splatted on the ground. But apart from that preventative screaming, there was no animosity, no battle of wills, no temper tantrums. ‘Twas a bloody miracle and totally worth the diseases.

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