Getting critique by a teenage lifeguard
Whenever my sister leaves her children under my watch, I always begin my childcare duties with the best of intentions. I will be the reasonable, logical, organized aunt. Somewhere along the way all this begins to slip.
Logic no longer seems to matter when, at 8 p.m. in a grocery store parking lot, you are crouched by a 6-year-old who refuses to climb into the car because he is too focused on sobbing about the unfairness of not getting a pack of chewing gum. Organization is meaningless compared to when your niece, on her own will, comes over and immediately assists you with cooking breakfast.
My conscious cutting of adult-like behavior is not something I am keen on advertising; however, it recently came under the scrutiny of the most unlikely of critics-teenage girls. We arrived at my niece's and nephews' neighborhood pool Saturday morning. The only other swimmer was an older gentleman swimming laps back and forth. The calm, rhythmic ripples his laps produced were completely interrupted by our chaotic waves as the four of us barreled into the water. We waded over to the deep end of the pool where there was a diving board and high-dive board. I was nudged by three elementary schoolers to the edge of the high dive when I decided this was as far as I wanted to take my high dive experience. My nephew jokingly blocked the ladder and it took the teenage lifeguard's command to let me pass to get him to stop. I don't know if my nephew bowed his head in shame because mine own was slumped down low. It is quite a pinch to a 34-year-old's ego when a high schooler's words holds more sway.
This was only the beginning. Next, my oldest nephew wanted to play on the water slide, which was dry of any gushing water stream to help usher the slider into the pool. "But there is no water," I pointed out. "It doesn't matter," he replied. "You can't use it now," the lifeguard interjected.
As the time wore on, my youngest nephew's eyes were starting to show the effects of being heavily immersed in chlorinated water. I suggested he get some goggles from the lifeguard station. He strapped them over his eyes and headed back over to the diving board. "Ma'm," the lifeguard's voice seemed to have jumped out of nowhere and completely ambushed me. "He can't wear goggles while using the diving board."
A little while later, my oldest nephew playfully put his younger brother up on his shoulders in a mock round of a game. "You can't do that!" the lifeguard commanded. At this point, I was beginning to feel as is I was being setup for failure as a parental guardian. So it seemed almost divine providence that the sky grew dark gray and raindrops showered down on the swimming pool.
As we left, I wondered if I would ever be allowed back in. That teenage girl could very well have thumb-tacked a wanted poster, warning swimmers to be vigilant of an aunt who seemed to have abandoned all mature, logical adult-like behavior.
My father said my experience seem to be straight out of a movie-namely the comedy classic, "Caddy Shack." |
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