One good thing about moving to a place that you used to live is that you can readily call upon a plan B when things don’t go as planned.
Case in point? We went to YMCA on Tuesday morning, where I promised (stupid, thy name is Hilary) the girls that I’d take them swimming after I worked out. We had had a late start that morning and didn’t leave the house until after 10am. Once we got the Y, got our membership cards, got checked into ChildWatch and the like, it was quarter ’til before I hopped on the treadmill. I put in a solid 40 minutes before wringing out my tee-shirt and collecting the girls.
Off to the pool we were headed, the girls skipping down the hallway holding hands. We pull up to the membership desk so I can ask where the family locker room is located and the kindly raisin wrinkled lady says, “Oh, the pool is closed from 11:30 to 12:30 for adult swim.”
I cast my eyes to the clock above her head. 11:27.
Dang it.
The girls go from glee to grimace in about 2 seconds. How was I know that the pool was going to be closed right then? You would have thought I had planned this on purpose. Morgan lit into me with a vitriol usually reserved for avenging a wrongfully dishonored spouse or sibling. That’s what I get for making promises. And no, I wasn’t going to hang around the Y for an hour until it opened up again. I’ve got other things to do.
Dejected and disgusted, the girls harrumphed their way to the car, bitterly complaining about yet another blow of injustice they’d suffered. What to do? What to do? We had a blow up pool at home, but the backyard had year to be cleared of the previous owner’s doggie deposits. Plus, I don’t yet know where the hose is and I think our sprinkler was left at the last house. What to do? What to do?
Of course! Pop jets at Stony Point!
When we lived in Richmond before, Stony Point Fashion Park had a little atrium that had popping water jets. Morgan was too little at the time to really appreciate it, but now, she and Coever both could run, jump, splish and splash. And Mom could read her magazine. Oooh, and Chipotle is right across the way? Yay! Everybody wins!
