This morning we went to the island aquatic center, a large facility with a pool divided into racing lanes, diving area, wading, water toys, and a current river. We spent some time floating around with Timothy clinging to a pool noodle (and us), generally having a blast except when we happened to get his face into the water. He still doesn't understand that. Even after mommy and daddy demonstrated that going underwater was fun, he took the attitude of "Why risk it? I'm happy floating here and breathing, thank you."
He was very amused when I went off the diving board (something I haven't done for years, possibly since high school now that I think about it). I managed a few passable head-first dives and then muffed a flip, taking a noseful of chlorinated water.
Timothy thought the dives were all highly amusing. (The lifeguards probably did too but they were polite enough to conceal it.) He called out to daddy to do the "big splash" thing again. This was all well and good except that the wading area where he was watching with mommy was a good fifty feet away and I don't wear my glasses when swimming.
So I hear a faint "daddy!" across the normal hubbub of splashing and laughing that's echoing off the swim center roof. I then have to spend a second to be sure it really is Timothy. Having established that, yes, my son is calling to me and is evidently enthralled by the diving, I make the guess that he's probably also waving to me simply because he's two and toddlers at that age communicate by either waving, hugging, or hitting -- I'd have noticed either of the other two. So I peer into the blurry distance across the pool like Mr. Magoo until I spot a blob that's waving. I wave back, hoping it's my family. (Fortunately, it was, so no faltering apology and explanation about nearsightedness was required.)
One relaxing stop in the hot tub later and then it's back home for a bit. Timothy goes for a power nap while Beth and I clean up the house a little and futz about online.
Then we spent the evening with our neighbors up the street. He rides the bus and ferry to work so we got to know each other. Turns out they have a son that's a little under a year older than Timothy. They have a great time together, playing with toys and obsessing about the names of all the trains in Thomas the Tank Engine. (Really. Never too young to be a raving fanboy is what I've learned from parenting.)
They grilled up some burgers, hot dogs, and corn on the cob. We added a salad and had a nice sit down dinner, chatting about the island, pets, and (inescapably) being parents. We finished off with a wickedly rich chocolate cake that Beth made. It was dense and moist; the ingredients list included sour cream and Guinness stout which actually did produce a marvelous result.
We walked back down our street, heading home with an exhausted kid trailing along behind. The summer evening was mild and the air was heavy from a rain shower that had passed through an hour earlier. The evergreens along the road framed the indigo sky overhead.
It was just relaxing, wonderful, and a day well spent. I'm sometimes profoundly grateful for my family, friends, and the times I have with them. I just wanted to share that slice of my day with you. Thanks to all of you here, too, for being great friends and acquaintances. I hope that you also had a fine day (Father or otherwise) and, if not, that tomorrow will be better brighter for a happy thought. Cheers!