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Gettin' Smarter Everyday

So I guess what brought the whole Dora mat thing to mind yesterday was this: My husband and I thought  (which I think is the dangerous part–us thinking about something) that dragging the plastic Fred Meyer pool from one side of the yard to its present location underneath the slide would be, well, fun.  Well, not the dragging part.  I mean, unless you’re at the waterslides where it’s a hundred times more amazing and you don’t have to rig a hose to anything, how can you beat a six foot water slide at home?   (hypothetical, here–heh heh). 

 Only between the two of us we couldn’t get the darn thing to budge until we emptied it.  And when we did drag it over, I don’t even think I was pulling.  But we didn’t do what I felt like doing, which involved turning my back and reading my book inside somewhere.  No, no…we were more responsible than that.  We gave the hose to the three year old. 

Who then marveled at his good fortune and hosed down the yellow slide.  Which made the slide look like irresistible fun that had I been three or six and not thirty-six, I’d’ve been the first down.  And the first one to crash through the front side of the blue plastic and escape with minor injuries.  Only my daughter had the honors.  And propeled by the hose assault from the top, she zipped down the slide, smacked the front of the pool with her rear and bounced out sideways into the grass.   Which was precisely when my husband and I shared a brief ‘Dora mat’ glance, nixed the hose and turned quickly to see if the neighbors were watching

And given seconds, precisely when a little boy without a garden hose,  smugly whizzed an arc down our very yellow slide. 

But, uh…no hard lessons.  No bandaids.  No bruises.  No swim trunks. 

Just a momentary reminder that there’s always another way to wet the slide.

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