“Are you two going to swim your hearts out?”
“Well not really…because we need our hearts to be alive.”
“Yes…that’s true. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“But what do they mean by it? Because…you would die without your heart.”
“I…” My shoulders slumped, “I’ll explain it when you’re older.”
Reggie interjected, “I like to swim Daddy!”
“After watching you in that pool last week, I don’t think that is something you need to explain Hun!”
“I like to drink pool water.”
“Wait. What? Did you say you drink pool water?”
“Yeah. It’s yummy.”
“Regina, pool water is not for drinking, it can make you sick.”
“But I like it.”
“REG!” Lyd barked, “You can’t drink pool water! Daddy says it’s poisonous and will KILL you!”
“Well, in tiny quantities it won’t do much. But you really should not drink it Hun. It’s different than regular water out of the tap.”
“What’s a tap Daddy?” Lyd asked.
“It’s sink water. Tap is another word for the faucet.”
“Why is it called a Tap?”
“Why are you called Lydia?” I turned my attention back to Reg, “Regina?”
“What?” She grumbled.
“Do NOT drink any water from that pool. Okay?”
“But it’s yummy!”
“It’s bad! It’s really, really bad. If you want some water, ask me, I’ll get you some.”
“Fine.” Her tone was drenched in exasperation and sarcasm…I wasn’t convinced.

Watching Regina in the pool is an incredible pleasure, and it’s hilarious watching her tiny limbs pumping away so furiously. She’s a runt, and the swim belts the staff has for lessons are all a little too big for her, so she needs the addition of a fun noodle for her lessons.
My phone chimed, “I can’t wait to be home! I miss you three so much!”
I replied, “We miss you too! Wish you were Home a little earlier, I could use some help getting the little one out of her suit after this lesson.”
Annie replied, “Is Molly’s Mom there to help with Lyd?”
“Yep she’s here. Thank God.” Annie had been in Chicago for three days, leaving me in single-dad-mode. The only real hiccups happened at swim lessons. Lydia still needs a little help, or at the very least be kept on track when changing out of her suit. She’s older than five so she can’t go into the boys locker room. I’m also older than five, so I can’t go into the girl’s locker room. So I need to rely on Moms of Lydia’s classmates to step up and help get Lyd changed on the nights when Annie isn’t there.
When life is a little more normal, Annie takes both girls to their swim lesson. Reggie goes first, I stop by to pick her up, bring her Home and get her to bed. She is very ready for bed by then. This was not a normal night, Reggie had to stick around with me for an agonizing 30 minutes waiting for Lyd’s lesson to wrap. She looked awfully tired, listless even. 20/20 hindsight tells me she was more than merely tired.
The girls had a wonderful surprise when they got Home to see that Annie was back! After they settled down and had some snuggle time, Reg threw up on Annie’s sweater.
Welcome Home Hun!
We cleaned her up, checked her temp, changed her PJs and brought them both upstairs for bed. Forty-Five minutes later, we heard Reg crying—real crying. We rushed up and discovered she coated the bed with half-digested scrambled eggs.
Our typical “someone barfed” routine kicked in: I stripped the bed and cleaned all those components. Annie remade the bed and cleaned up Regina. She still had no temperature. I went over the day…decent enough nap, nothing out of the ordinary with what she ate. Then it dawned on me…the argument we had on the way to swimming – she drank the pool water! Knowing her, she didn’t just drink some, she probably guzzled it, just to show us a thing or two. That little…well…serves her right I guess. Unfortunately, I think learning lessons the hard way will be a defining pattern in Regina’s life.
“Regina? Would you like to know why you threw up?”
“Why?” She wailed.
“You drank pool water. Remember when Lyd and I were telling you not to drink pool water?”
Lyd popped up, “Yeah Reg. Remember when me and Daddy were telling you pool water is poisonous?”
“Lyd!”
“Sorry! I’ll get back to bed.”
“Thank You.” Back to Regina, “Reggie, this is what happens when you drink pool water. Your body doesn’t like the stuff, and it’s trying to get rid of it.”
“I won’t drink the pool water anymore Daddy! I so sorry!” She wailed.
Reggie was cleaned up, and the bedding was changed. With the exception of a vague puke-like scent about the place, everything was back to being as it should. Annie went to bed, I watched a documentary about dinosaurs and went upstairs myself. I was thinking about what had happened and I decided to check in on Reggie, maybe, you know, make sure she’s breathing. I slipped in and laid a hand on her arm, she rolled over and looked straight up at me. “Go to sleep tiny!” I whispered as I stroked her hair, her wet hair, her wet and (Oh no) chunky hair. “Annie!”
The process was nearly identical to the first incident, but with a little more struggle. We rarely break out the third string sheets. What if this happens yet again?
“Are we ready to lay her down again?” Annie asked.
“How about this instead? I’ll lay down with her downstairs on the couch, I’ll have a towel draped on my chest in case I can’t grab the puke bowl in time. We’ll sleep down here.”
Annie thought about it and shrugged, “You’ll wash n wear easier than bedsheets!”
So with a puke-catching towel on my chest, Annie laid Reggie down on me and draped a blanket across the two of us. She was awake, she was chatty, she was wiggly (I’m guessing she coughed up the last of the nastiness, but I had that same thought twice that night). There’s no way I’m breaking out the Eric Carle for her. I’m stuck down here on the couch, not upstairs with my wife. I’m reading one of my books. So I read some Harry Potter to her, using the most soothing and dulcet tones I could muster.
Did it work? My memory is a bit vague. It worked on me, that’s for certain. The next morning I woke up with no Regina on my chest and Annie had tucked the blanket around me.
I spent the rest of the day washing bedding, stuffed animals, mattresses and one little girl. All the while Reggie was happy and chatty and bouncy—a perfect opposite of her exhausted parents.
We’re so happy you feel better, Reg! So freaking happy.