what, you mean it's not the weekend anymore?
a minor update, though! on monday, i took the little shit to the public pool. the nearest pool here in park slope is at nevins and douglas. it is called the D&D pool, which i was surprised to learn had more to do with it being located between douglas and degraw than it had to do with fictitious characters who embark upon imaginary adventures in which they battle many grotesque monsters, gather treasure, interact with each other, and earn experience points.
minus that, it was still an awesome adventure. we got there, checked our stroller at the gate, stripped to our swimsuits, rinsed off in the fungus-shower and jumped feet-first into the one-foot-deep wading pool. when i emerged from the mens' locker room i blinded half the borough with the light-reflecting whiteness of my pale-nasty deadskin. the tanned multi-ethnic masses cringed at my arrival as if i were Gringolito, the pigmentless devourer of souls. i was shunned. a couple of times they attempted to steal my daughter away, convinced that i had kidnapped the dark-skinned child with the intention of eating her.
be that as it may. i have this to say to my fellow brooklyn parents not yet in the know: the double-d pool is fucking awesome. i will grant you that even though the water is only one-foot deep, it is still possible for your child to drown. my own daughter attempted to prove this many times over. but there is no denying that there's a little thrill in seeing all of your fellow familiar tot lot parents (moms and dads alike) in their skivvies! my conclusion? it is a marvel anyone gets laid anymore. hello former hedge-fund manager, that must be jelly because jam don't shake like that.
so the kid had fun. apart from the one-foot-deep wading pool, there is also a three-foot-deep pool where more adventurous parents take their more adventurous tots. my tot was not so keen on the near-death-drowning that she was experiencing every time her father launched her into the air and almost-sort-of-caught-her-in-the-water. still, she trooped on. she liked the water. she wanted more water.
the sun? he liked my shoulders. he wanted to give them lots of presents, like freckles and cancer. so, after not-too-long it was time for albino daddy to retreat to the shade. the kid was tired anyway. she had splished and she had splashed. she had giggled and she had squiggled. she had witnessed her father shamelessly ogling the 17-year-old camp counselors escorting their wee camp charges. she too was ready to go. tired and wet, we returned to the air-conditioned homestead (ps: thank you, ConEd, for liking your brooklyn customers more than those in queens).
some parting thoughts about the double-d pool:
- maybe it's a typo and it should have been called the double-p pool because pee-squared is surely the most common thing that happens in it.
- maybe it takes the "double-d" from the average bra size of the men who beach themselves on her shores?
- maybe, perhaps sometime next week, the chlorine will have flushed from my system and i will be able to see in color again.
- maybe i will quit my job next summer and become a lifeguard because public pools rock the casbah.
URGENT UPDATE: speaking of bathing suits ...