Yesterday afternoon Carter and I were sitting pool-side enjoying popsicles. His was raspberry. Mine was lime. It was hot, maybe 108 or so and the popsicles were dripping.
Try as we might, we could not keep up with the drips. Small rivers of melted popsicle trickled down the sticks. We licked, turned, licked again slurping up the cool treat. Drops escaping our tongues landed, splattering onto our legs, chest, running down our hands.
I was unimpressed and expressed my unhappiness in the sticky situation.
Carter, ever the optimist, turned to me and smiled. “Don’t worry, momma!” he said “Skinny dipping will take care of it. It is the perfect solution!”
He asked me if he could. I said yes. He invited me to join him. I hesitated, wondering how I could explain why I felt he could and I couldn’t (well, at least in the daytime, and without little kid eyes around). He really wanted me to join him in the pool and so suggested I put on my swim trunks (we will have to work on that swim suit vocabulary so as to be more gender appropriate).
I put on my swim suit and joined him.
And he was right, it was the perfect solution – with or without swimming attire.