I have a love-hate relationship with the Aquatic Center. Awesome facilities vs shitty hours and SOOOOO many rules. The high-school lifeguards adhere religiously to the squashing of all possible fun, disciplinarian youth and Godwin’s Law collide in sunburned subburbed space.  Their tepid, bleating enforcement is more grating than the actual persecution, even my kids mock their apathy.

Along with our summer pass, Alana and I developed an understanding: she could get away with whatever she could get away with, as long as she didn’t drag me into it.

Dad! They should let me jump owf the high boawd. I jumped owf a cwiff.  

so true.

What at first seemed rigid monolithic enforcement of the rules upon further glance became huge gaping holes in security. $3.90 on Ebay made 46.75 inches = 48 for the next 3 months.

Le Fluffing
Me: How old are you sweetie?
Alana: 7
Me: How did you get that wristband?
Alana: The people up front measured me
Me: Is that your dad?
Alana: I’ve never seen that man before in my life

And like good pre-Millennials, they go slack jawed and wave them on, lacking the fortitude or commitment to confront the 6yo by cutting off her illicit wristband.