Erin’s Second Swim Meet

Erin is really getting her pace in swimming now, and at her meet last night she did really well, especially in her freestyle events. She swims very smoothly and cuts right through the water, and, as I told her, if things ever ‘clicked’ and she tried to work her arms and legs with some sense of urgency—i.e., as if she were in a competition instead of a leisurely swim--she would be hydroplaning! Her last event was a freestyle relay, and though she was on the ‘B’ squad, she easily caught up and passed the ‘A’ squad girl on her lap!

Allyson also contributed to the night’s events by having a major #2 blowout. Cindy was leaving halfway through with the other kids, and we discovered Allyson’s competitive streak (that extended halfway up her back!) just as we were getting her into the van.

I made the mistake of taking garlic hotwings to the swim meet for my dinner. Though they were tasty with the ranch & gorgonzola cheese dippy sauce, they were a bit messy and they kept attracting unwanted attention from both gnats and Cameron (is that redundant?) He likes to eat what he calls ‘the juicy inside meat with no skin that is not so spicy,’ and he was hovering around me the entire time looking for suitable scraps. This means that I cannot suck the meat off the bones like a regular carnivore, rather, I have to hand-pick the meat off (keeping the pinkies extended, of course!). He even tried a piece that had a little bit of the spicy coating on it, smacked his lips, and pronounced it as satisfying, then asked for a drink. Easier said than done with my messy fingers!

I had to do the timing for the second half, so Erin was left to her own devices. Near the end of the meet I glanced around to see what she was up to, and was truly, well, stunned by what I saw. She was busily putting our fold-up chairs in their bags and getting everything ready to go. This is not the child I know and love. Was it just a cruel mirage? Had her body been taken over by aliens? To check these hypotheses, I took her to Young’s Dairy for a double-dip cone (‘Cow Patty’ and Cookie Dough), and let her eat it in the dark car on the way home. Though not without some mixed emotions, I was able to ascertain that it was still the old Erin. Once we got home the tell-tale signs readily apparent--dribbles of dried chocolate ice cream down to her chin and ice cream spots on her clothes. I’m quite sure that aliens are more fastidious.