Sunday, August 31, 2008

The Wash & Tickle

We went to the swimming pool today and let me just state up front that these are not my feet. You can tell this by the fact that the ones shown here have hair. Yes, that can be a touchy subject with me so why don't you just shut the hell up and go away?

I am pretty sure that Clarice does not let her legs go au natural, so these lovely drumsticks must belong to Brian, Dalia's hairy dad. For the sake of Dalia's fingers, I hope the sequence of their odd little pedicure was to wash first, then tickle.

Sticking with today's theme of 'weird things to do with feet', David decided to stomp his stinky digits into a plate of french fries we had ordered for the kids with the original intention of actually eating them.

I have to say that cleaning ketchup, mayo and mashed up potatoes from between your child's toes is somehow more disgusting than changing a really gross diaper. That probably has to do with becoming desensitized to the ickiness of diapers after having changed so many, but I really don't care. Yuck, David. Yuck. And I have to save one yuck for Peter, who still wanted to eat the french fries after David two-stepped all over the innocent spuds. Yuck.

What David lacked in french fry eating etiquette he made up for in what was either bravery or stupidity; I'm not quite sure which one yet, but the boy has absolutely no fear of water. Peter and Dalia obviously value life and were not having any part of the slide at the deep end of the pool. David, on the other foot, raced for the deep end and jumped in, feet first.

After a little mouth-to-mouth and chest pumping, David wanted to tackle the slide. I stayed in the deep end and caught him as he slid down. On the fifth or sixth time, though, David did not come down. I started to get nervous and climbed out to check if he was still waiting in line for the slide. He was not. Shit.

I started to freak out, but I quickly spotted him climbing the ladder to the mega super-slide next to the high-dive pool. This is the slide that has a big sign at the front of the line warning that you must be at least NINE to go on it. Thanks, retarded people in line who let my two year old climb halfway up the ladder.

Normally, me telling David not to do something only means he will giggle and do it quickly. I think this time, even he realized he may have gone a little too far. When I screamed at him to get down, he still giggled, but he did reluctantly make his way back down the ladder.

When David's potato smashing feet hit the ground, I was mixed with feelings of relief and an urge to stick my foot somewhere even grosser than in a plate of french fries.
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we go to the swimming and Dalia was there.
David: I go'ed to the swimmer pool.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David said by his Ladder Talk that Gizma scratch him - that is not funny because Gizma did not scratch him today - I know that. He always says that.
David: When I cry and Gizma scratch me.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To go with you to dress up like superman.
David: When I play a game.

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