Drowned toddlers are sooo annoying

We went to an indoor water park this week.  It was equal parts awful and great, so pretty much a typical family vacation.

This is our first significant family experience with a water park, so we learned some new things.

1) Owen seems to be a little allergic to chlorine, based on his coughing fits, rash, and vomiting.  So an indoor water park is great for a family vacation destination.

2) I do not have tough feet.  Next time, I am going dressed in my Slenderizing For Mature Women bathing suit and some water shoes.  I'll definitely have to wear my wedding ring to show that I am already taken, gentlemen.

3) Lilly has a hard head both literally and figuratively.  Don't try to convince her she wants to go on the water slide when she wants to ride in the lazy river.  She knows what she wants.  She wants to ride in the lazy river.  Come, don't come, she doesn't care.  She'll be in the lazy river.  Again.  Also, don't sit next to her in the family tube ride because she'll crack your skull open and days later your brains will still be leaking out.

4) We going to need to adopt another kid or make sure my dad comes along next time because nobody wants to be the single rider.  It is sad and lonely and a tiny bit embarrassing if you are a grown ass adult in a Slenderizing for Mature Women bathing suit headed down the water roller coaster tube ride.


Here's one other story from our trip:

It was the first day, and we were climbing down into the lazy river (see point three above).   I was behind Chris still looking for an available tube.  Chris is in the water and I see him stumble a little bit.  He looks down and shakes his head a little.  Then he hands Lilly her tube and she heads off and then Chris reaches into the water and pulls out the lifeless body of a toddler.

He's standing there, dangling the limp and colorless body in his right hand and gestures to the lifeguard with his left hand, all like, "jeez, here, do you want to do something about this?"  The life guard blows his whistle and jumps in.

At this point my mind is like this:

"AAAAHHHHHHHH DEADBABYDEADBABYTHATBABYISDEAD AAAAAAHHHHHH WHOKNOWSCPR AAAAHHHHH (I'm going to have to talk to Chris about appropriate protocol when he finds a drowned toddler like seriously maybe just hold it instead of dangling it?) AAAHHHHHHH DEADBABY AHHHHH (Also, maybe he could, like, try wading to the side instead of just waiting for the lifeguard to come and get this kid?) AAAAAHHHHHHH (And also, fix your face, Chris.  He looks totally annoyed that he stubbed his toe on a body) AAAAAHHHH (also, that kid has really funny looking joints.  Like his knees are just creases)  Aaaaahhhhh?  (why is the lifeguard smiling?  Sure, he looks chagrined, like he's embarrassed that Chris found the dead baby, but he doesn't look horrified, which I feel like more people should be right now?)

Oh.  It's a training dummy.  Just a little toddler shaped doll designed to test the lifeguards.

Well that's fun.

A week getting dressed with Lilly

Monday:

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and a short shirt.  We've discussed multiple times that this isn't appropriate.  Her leggings are too old and thin and she forgets underpants too often.  At a certain age, you just can't wear a short shirt with your leggings.  Tunic tops, for sure, but not one that hits above the waistband.  It may be an arbitrary rule that nobody else agrees with, but it is my rule and it is not a brand new one.  I long ago gave up on trying to make sure she matched or anything ridiculous like that.  She can wear almost anything she wants, except leggings or tights with just a short shirt.

"Lilly, you can't wear that.  You can't wear leggings and a short shirt.  You can wear a short shirt and pants, or leggings and a long shirt, or leggings and a short shirt with a skirt, but not just leggings and a short shirt. You know that."

Lilly flounces away in irritation. Why am I always cramping her style?


Tuesday:

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and short shirt.

"Lilly, you need to go change.  You can't wear leggings with a short shirt.  Remember how we set out an outfit last night?  You could put that one on? No?  Fine, if you want, you could just throw a skirt on top of the leggings.  That might be easier."

Lilly falls to the ground in despair and rolls out of the room.  What is my problem?


Wednesday:

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and a short shirt.

"Lilly, I bought you a bunch of pants and long shirts yesterday.  For a long time I didn't buy you pants because you would only wear dresses but you seem to have lost interest in dresses and I understand you may not have had pants to wear with your short shirts but you definitely do now.  They are clean and folded in your drawer.  Please go put on either a long shirt of a pair of pants."

Lilly vibrates across the floor with annoyance.  I am impossible to satisfy.


Thursday:

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and a short shirt.

"Oh, look at this.  You are wearing leggings and a short shirt.  What a surprise.  I know this is going to come out of nowhere for you, but you CAN'T WEAR THAT.  You need to cover your tush.  I don't care how.  Long shirt, real pants, skirt, dress, whatever the hell you want."

Lilly storms out in a rage. Nothing is ever good enough for me.


Friday: 

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and short shirt.

"Really?  Because last night I resorted your dresser so that all the long shirts were in one drawer, all the short shirts were in another, and the leggings were stored separately from the pants.  We went over it.  I described the contents of each drawer, and we had a trial run where you clearly understood that the shirts from the short shirt drawer could not be paired with items from the legging drawer.  GO CHANGE."

Lilly literally climbs the wall in frustration.  Seriously, what do I even WANT from her?


Saturday:

Lilly walks in wearing leggings and no shirt at all.

Well, that's refreshing.