|Child #1 mid-dive.|
It's the kind with a snack bar that, until a year ago, tabulated costs on cards by crossing out the amount of dimes you had spent.
My kids go to swim team every morning and in the afternoon they go back and act silly, eat, swim and beg to never go home.
It was on one of these long afternoons that a friend of mine asked me, "Has Child #1 been talking about the Loving Teenagers?"
Despite Child #1 having coined the name she hadn't opted to fill me in. The story, in brief, can almost be told by the moniker. Teenagers making out in the deep end of the pool, hot tub and the kid's rec room.
Except (poor Loving Teenagers), they were discovered by my daughter and her rowdy band of swim teamers who proceeded to stalk them from the deep end of the pool, the hot tub and straight down to the kid's rec room.
I must admit to being amused on several levels. It's bad enough to be a teenager in *ahem* love (I guess we can call it that). But it's even worse to be chased by a giggling group of goggle-wearing girls.
The second piece of this that makes me happy is Child #1's blissful ignorance about that kind of love. Even though she's only three years from being a teenager herself, and hopefully many more years from being a loving one, her language still reflects her essential innocence.
She doesn't think in terms of making out, necking, heavy petting, smooching, hooking up, snogging, groping, fondling and all the other terms usually applied to teenagers desperate for some alone time.
I realize this is a brief window and her march toward adulthood with all of its phases will continue unabated. Maybe that's what makes this story particularly sweet for me.
And for any parents of Loving Teenagers, I'd be more than happy to offer Child #1's services because, according to my sources at the pool, the Loving Teenagers weren't able to accomplish much loving.