Surf's Up

I went to a lot of trouble making sure that Smoochie wasn't born and raised in Los Angeles. A LOT of trouble. Sold all the furniture, packed away the summery footwear and flippy skirts, gave up the car of my (really quite modest) dreams, quit the lucrative job in Hollywood, said goodbye to some of the best people in the world. Said goodbye to the only woman in the world who is able to cut and colour my hair without making me look like a 1950s Muscovite. So A LOT OF TROUBLE.

And today, I realized that I shouldn't have done it.

We went for the first time to the pool, the wave pool, to be exact. Ah, a wintry Sunday afternoon at the wave pool. The saline/urine solution was at a balmy 83 degrees and the living was easy. And Smoochie loved it. Loved being smacked around by the waves. Loved how his little purple bathing suit puffed in and out when he jumped up and down. Loved getting his head wet. Loved getting water up his nose. Loved going under when we shot out of the slide. Loved the plash-plash sound his feet made on the wet concrete. Even loved when the kid strapped into a garish yello ducky life preserver bashed into him.

I suppose he wouldhave loved being in a gang, too. And getting skin cancer. And having to pledge allegiance every morning.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that up here he will be too cold most of the time to go out of the house and get into any trouble whatsoever.