Swim class for Shnook is twice a week.
I'd love to say that it's fun and exciting for me, but it's not, really.
Don't get me wrong. I'm SUPER excited that Shnook is learning to swim. He can float on his back pretty well now, and he's not afraid to put his face in the water. This is progress. Not to mention, his number recognition skills are improving daily.
The swim routine is pretty solid, but some days it feels like driving a tractor through mud...As if I know what that's like. Hey, maybe this year in Vermont, I'll actually get to drive one.
So we get there, change, pee and shower off. This can take a while with a kid who wants to do everything except those three tasks. Once we finally get organized. I deposit him with the swim teacher and go take my spot in the observation room.
Afterwards, it's another (extremely wet) struggle while all the moms and kids wait for their turn in the shower. We all stand there, fully clothed while we help our kids get cleaned and dechlorinated. Most of us wear some kind of flip-flop at least, but, really the most appropriate attire would be a raincoat and boots. Getting fully naked doesn't seem right when you haven't been in the pool yourself. This is just me and Shnook, by the way. Thankfully, Fuzz stays home with the nanny for this event. I'm grateful, because there are other moms there who are chasing after their toddlers while showering and changing their older kids. It sucks.
So, the before/after are the tractor/mud part. But the observation room...
This means, when it's not his turn, I get to play Words With Friends on my phone. If I get a seat, it can be a nice little 30 minute break (really 27, because we're always late).
I don't know any of the other parents there. There are a couple of Mid-Western moms with whom I occasionally make small talk, but mostly I keep to myself.
Then, there's Hot Dad.
Hot Dad sits there, doing exactly what the rest of us are doing. He's just hot. I'm not sure if he's hot in comparison to the rest of us poor slobs at the Y, or if he's really and truly hot. I've been out of the game for a while, but I think...the latter.
So, there's Hot Dad. And there's me playing Words With Friends. I do my best not to look in the direction of Hot Dad, lest he think I think he's hot.
I would never attempt to talk to Hot Dad. I'm a little too shy for that. Plus, why? For one thing, I look like total ass when I take Shnook to swim class. I'm sure my hair is doing lots of weird pointy stuff which occurs when I don't shower. I probably have something green between my two front teeth. Plus, would you wear nice clothes if you had to hose your kid down twice in a forty-five minute period?
Then, one day, last week, I was sitting there, wording with friends. Suddenly a voice says:
"Is that your Outback? Do you like it?"
Whoa.
Not only is Hot Dad talking to me but...
Hot Dad knows what kind of car I drive.
So started a conversation with Hot Dad which went quite well by my estimation. We talked schools, kids, East Coast roots, and of course...automobiles.
Hot Dad really is just like the rest of us. We're all trying to fill that 30 minute window with something pleasant, since the dreaded shower/cleaning/dinner/bedtime marathon is what we have ahead.
So, now I can look forward to both my WWF games and my 2 minute conversations with Hot Dad at swim class. We know each other's first names and our kids' first names, but that's it. And just to make sure Hot Dad doesn't think my interest lies anywhere but polite "Y" conversation, I continue to wear the most unflattering clothing I can find in my closet, and my lip gloss stays tucked in my bag.
By the by, for anyone who is concerned that a) Hot Dad might see this post or b)TSA may see it, too. I assure you that I'm not worried.
As I mentioned, Hot Dad does not know my last name, nor my profession, but if he does see this, so what? I suspect Hot Dad is aware that he's hot.
As for TSA. He never reads my blog posts. NEVER. I think it's because he's afraid I'm talking shit about him.
But really, babe? This is a test to see if you're reading this blog post.
Hello?
Nope.
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