Adult Swim

Glad to see that while some things change, some things stay the same.  Anyone who has ever spent a summer afternoon at a community pool and heard the words “Adult Swim!” (and experienced all the emotions that go along with it) will understand exactly what I’m about to say.

You see, on the best community pool days, you arrive, procure the perfect pair of lounge chairs, unload the bags of crap and manage to keep your very excited child(ren) from leaping into the diving well. But at the drop of a hat, this “home run” can quickly turn into a “ground out to first” if you inadvertently time your arrival with the start of Adult Swim.

Let’s be clear about something – no child under the age of 17 understands the concept of Adult Swim. Oh how I wish I could just sit on the side of the pool and stare at the women in the floral swim caps doing laps. But that is no longer an option. Instead, I now spend Adult Swim wishing I had taken a class in Balloon-Animal-Making.

But since I can’t twist a balloon into a poodle, I’ve come up with a three-act play that seems to fill the time well enough. Feel free to use it.

Curtain up and I wrap Spicy Girl up like a burrito in an adult-size beach towel. This works to keep her warm, yet contained. I do a little song and dance to the tune of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean: “I love my baby burrito … My baby burrito loves me … I love my baby burrito … So much that I could giggle with glee!” Toddler hysteria ensues.

Next, our own version of “So You Think You Can Dance?” After putting on our terry cover-ups, I challenge Spicy Girl to a dance-off. I do a move, then she mimics me. She does a spin and I copy her. We go back and forth until enough people begin to stare.

The finale takes us to the lounge chair, where Spicy Girl finds her place on my lap and we read whatever bath book I’ve packed in the bag. And when the book is over… thankfully, so is Adult Swim. Because if I had to fill another 5 minutes, who knows what I would have to resort to.