At Swim, Two Nerds
Yesterday we went to Elijah's swim class early, because Regina wanted to do some grocery shopping and because it was hot and I wanted to get in the pool myself. The schedule online said that there was "family swim" from 2:30 to 4:30 on weekdays. Elijah and I put our stuff on a bench and took off our shoes. Then I gleefully removed my shirt, walked to the edge of the pool, and hopped in. The boy, who doesn't understand the concept of "waiting until dad gets his feet set before jumping in after him," was behind me by about five seconds.
I began to swirl him around. We talked in our own little language. It went something like "wiggie sniggie boogie oogie floogie." My eye caught the lifeguard's. He looked upset.
"There's no family swim today!" the lifeguard said.
"Oh?" I said.
"It's summer camp."
I looked around. Elijah and I were in the middle of a dozen 10-year-old girls, all of whom appeared to be frightened. I tried to think like them: A sweaty, hairy Jew with a big smile on his face jumps into the pool and speaks in gibberish. I'm lucky they didn't start screaming.
Closeup on my horrified face. Cue the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme. Fade out.