All the signs of autumn's approach are here. Chilly nights, shorter days. The birds have gone south.
And the kids are back in the bath tub.
We've had a nice run, relying on a daily chlorine dip to decontaminate Thing 1 & 2. I don't think those kids have seen a bar of soap since mid-July, though Mom swore she bathed them a couple of weeks ago. ("Didn't their hair looked nice? I washed and brushed it.")
The pool was so easy. Just click on their life vests and give them a little shove. And it wasn't just the convenience, it was the whole experience. Loading up in the gator, gravel crunching under the wheels, the dog running and barking alongside. Leaping in the water for that brief break from the humidity or just slouching in a patio chair clutching a beer. Next thing you know, it's getting dark and time to cast the threats that your parents used to reel you in: "I'm going to count to three..."
Finally, everyone's bound in towels still damp from the day before. The sun's just a sliver and we buzz down the drive, spitting gravel and scattering the deer who've ventured from the trees.
That's been the daily routine since June barring cold snaps and gully washers. But the last couple of days have been cool and the nights even cooler. Reluctantly, we've had to accept reality: it's time to bathe again.
The kids miss the pool, for about five minutes.
Water is water, I guess.
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