Seasons In The Sun

Shae has FINALLY had a chance to get her butt in the pool (literally, her butt, and not just her toes, which is all that had been technically allowed previously, although let's just all be honest here and recognize that when I say "just put your feet in," she merely views that as a suggestion, much like I view "55 mph" as a suggestion). She cannot be happier about it, I'd say.

Last weekend (before Father's Day) we went to a picnic at my aunt's, and in this great big backyard that is probably more than an acre, where there are trees and hills and tire swings and mud puddles and weeds up to your knees and all manner of fascinating insects, Shae zeroed right in on the inflatable pool.

Because OF COURSE SHE DID. She also did some hard time -- in her swimsuit -- in the sandbox, and we spent about 25 minutes in the shower afterwards, trying to wash approximately eleventy bajillion pounds of sand out of her bathing suit and her hair. OH MY GOD, her hair. You can probably understand why we got her a haircut over the weekend (or, as my brother-in-law put it, we "scalped" her, but IT SHOULD NOT TAKE 45 MINUTES to comb out a 4-year-old's head).

Still and all, I love seeing her in her natural element. Nothing makes her face light up quite like a swimming pool. Or a bathtub. Or a fish tank. Or a Dixie cup full of water from the bathroom sink. Sometimes I am convinced that she was born two weeks too late, and she is actually supposed to be a Pisces, not an Aries, because COME ON. Does this kid seem like a fire sign to you?

No, she's totally a water baby. Maybe there IS something to that "new horoscope" business after all. (Although I will always and forever be a Taurus and nobody can convince me otherwise ... and isn't that the surest sign of a Taurus that ever there was?)