Racing in the Hot Tub

One of the goals we had in putting in a swimming pool this past winter was that the kids would have a year-round 24/7 way to reconnect themselves to reality. Water - especially warm water - really does it for them. Every day this week, they have spent at least an hour in the pool after school letting go of the stresses of the day, reconnecting with each other, and exercising.

Today they are having races in the hot tub. Literally. They are racing each other across the diameter of the spa. It has to be a whole eight feet across. Each race is a tie, but they don't care. They both declare themselves the winner and go for it again. And again. And again.

In addition to racing (it could be pod racing, I'm not sure), they are reciting dialog from Star Wars. Ian is Darth Vader, Ainsley plays all the other roles. They know their lines perfectly, including the accents. Ian's Vader sounds a lot like his C3PO, but I'd rather hear the weak accent than have to experience the odor emitted from his arm after he wears the black plastic Darth Vader glove for any length of time. I believe the best way to describe it would be smashed rotten peas, slimy gray carrots mixed with the peas, creamed spinach, and sweat. Although I was not privy to the actual original scent, this description of the smell emanating from my cousin David's cast upon its removal is probably the most accurate comparison I can make. (David used his cast as a depository for anything he didn't wish to eat. He was around five years-old when he broke his leg and at the height of his vegetable hating years.) I think Ian has finally realized that the glove stinks, so he doesn't wear it much any more.

It is doubtful if I will ever be able to step more than five feet away from the hot tub with the kids in it, even when they are teens. No matter how many times I tell them, they always find a new creative way to break the rules that I very plainly explain each time they enter the hot water. The initial guideline of keeping heads above water at all times was to keep hair or swimsuit strings from becoming caught in the drain at the bottom of the hot tub. Each day there is a new reason not to allow total submersion. Less than five minutes ago I had to explain why propelling oneself backward from the steps across the hot tub and dunking under water is a bad idea. Ainsley missed scraping the back of her head down the flagstone ledge by about an inch.

"But MO-om! I'll be careful," Ainsley wailed.

"Arguing will get you a 10 minute time-out from the pool," I said with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh-kay," she sighed.

I don't want to be one of those moms who explains the hazards of play in emergency room terms, because Ainsley will want to check out the ER if she thinks there is a lot of cool stuff there. Ian can be scared straight; but not my daughter. Of course, she isn't the one who stuck a bead in her ear last summer, almost requiring surgery to remove it. That was my boy genius.

It's hard to tell them to stop doing the things that help to calm them down. Everything seems to be a double-edge sword. Maybe I need to dress them in armor. Does anyone know how to make cast iron float?