How old are you?

Somewhere along the way, the kids have moved out of diapers and out of strollers, past the need for binkies and sippy cups. . . and somewhere along the way, become actual people. But have I managed to move out of thinking that they NEED me for every little thing? This part of the equation is much tougher.

Every one of the last 4 summers here has held with it various reasons why we couldn't simply live at the pool. Most often it was because my two little hands simply were no match for 3 kids under 3 plus Jordan near large bodies of water. I thought it foolish and unrealistic to imagine hauling all the kids I babysat plus my two to the pool. So we never did. We became sprinkler experts, cheap inflatable pool proficient but never did we dare venture into the wonderful community pool just down the street from our house.

We'd even watch from the playground next to the pool as what seemed like billions of people sweat and burned and yelled and played and, presumably, had a blast. But as I watched I could only think "Ugh, what a nightmare. Chasing children, using pool bathrooms, sooo crowded. No thanks."

I couldn't have been more wrong!! And boy were we missing out.

Friday I shocked Jordan and myself when I granted a request to take him and a friend(Natalie) to Alligator's Creek (the pool down the street). We were there almost 4 hours and couldn't have had a better time.

Granted, there was some confusion at the outset. We approached the window to pay our admission fee and I said, "Two kids and myself". (Natalie has a season's pass).
But then I didn't understand what the woman behind the glass was asking me. And so I repeat. . .

"Just two children and myself."

And she said, "And how old are you?"

"I'm sorry?" I was already confused and we weren't even inside the pool yet!!

"How old are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. How old are you?"

"27."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!!! Well, i guess you can be flattered . . . i wasn't sure. . . " and so on as she attempted to recover from her mistake.

And then I realized that she hadn't thought that I was 18 and a valid guardian for the minors I had in tow.

Oh man.

So here is the moral of my long and winding story -
Jordan is not 4 and Sedona is not 2 (well, and I'm not 16). I learned a valuable lesson Friday as I sat on the edge of the splash pool watching Sedona befriend any number of kids, help a girl smaller than herself reach the fountain and team up with 2 older boys in a silly game. Meanwhile, Jordan swam to his heart's content in the big pool, making new friends, running into old ones and learning all kinds of new tricks. He didn't need me to micromanage his swimming adventure and neither did she.

The sign outside the entrance said that kids under 9 need to have an adult with them. Is that to suggest that by next summer. . . I won't even need to be there with Jordan?! The reality of how much they've grown is slow to set in. 9 is 9, not 15 and 4 is still very much 4. . . but seeing them as people I get to hang out with instead of little ones to manage has changed the way we interact so much and I gotta tell ya . . . we're having a blast.