I’m giving away our new favorite book – Is Your Buffalo Ready for Kindergarten here.
I have a new giveaway up for a Monopoly board game here.
It’s almost here. I can feel the cold breath of fall even when the humidity is still keeping my hair in a near constant ponytail and the temperature is threatening hte power of my air conditioner.
How do I know summer is almost over? It isn’t because I’m madly searching for school supplies and the wee ones go back to school. It isn’t because I know I’m going to spend the next few days trying on uniforms and figuring out what we need to replace for the coming year.
Nope, I have far more effective proof.
Mister Man was swimming the other day, doing his usual jumping into the pool and swimming around, playing with a noodle, seeing how long he can hold his breath (his record is an unverified thirty-five seconds), and the like.
As we was swimming across the pool, a look of sheer panic crossed his face. He grabbed at his stomach and doubled over, treading water. He made it to the other side, climbed out, and looked down. I heard him wimpering and peered over at him.
He was clutching the shirt of his swimsuit in both hands, trying to piece it back together. It had somehow ripped from the bottom all the way up to his neck where the double stitching around his neck held strong. Upon closer examination, it had simply shredded.
My 51 inch tall son who usually wears a size seven could still fit into his 4T swimsuit (thankfully he’s somewhat slim) because it just kept stretching and stretching. The more he swam, the more it grew with him. It finally gave up the ghost, however.
Unlike Little Miss’s swimsuit that shredded in the middle of a swim lesson at the end of last summer, his didn’t render him indecent. I instructed him to simply take off the swim shirt, throw it in the garbage, and resume swimming shirtless – with sunscreen liberally applied to his farmer’s tan belly.
I decided it was time to take a look at my own beloved swimsuit. The one with the oh so cute little skirt that looked fashionable instead of old lady. The fun pattern that detracted from the parts of my physique that I didn’t wish to emphasize. The swimsuit I could simply put on and not have to look in a mirror and decide whether it was flattering or not because it was flat out what I own and what I was going to wear.
I noticed my own suit had stretched out over time. It was longer in the shirt than I remembered it being. And looser, too. In fact, the front and back drooped, while the side seam again held its original length. As I examined the skirt, I noticed a few places where the fabric was disintegrating to the point where I could start to see through it.
I looked more closely at the shirt part of my swimsuit. And I realized that too was becoming more transparent than I wished. And I certainly wasn’t about to have it rip in half while swimming across the pool.
This morning, I bade farewell to my swimsuit by tossing it in the garbage – as hard as that was to do – primarily because this means that I need to once again go swimsuit shopping.