Showdown At the Wazy Wiver

If you were anywhere near a water park in Texas this weekend,

and you saw a frazzled looking grandmother (me)

taking her lifeguarding duties seriously,

while everyone being guarded ignored her,


you should have stopped and said hi.

Whatever happened to the swimming rules of my youth?



Don’t people wait an hour after eating ( before swimming) so they don’t get cramps and die?

Isn’t the undertow still the scariest deterrent from going out too far?

Aren’t kids taught to swim from the deep end to the shallow and never the reverse (in case you get so exhausted you pass out and die just as you reach the deep end)?


I quit…

And the lazy river…

what a misnomer.



When my youngest grandson wanted to get into the

‘wazy wiver’,

(a winding, concrete river 3 feet deep with a moving current, thank you very much)

I couldn’t allow him to do that alone of course (he can not swim),

and he would not wear his life jacket ,

so I got into the wazy wiver,



WITH ALL OF MY CLOTHES ON,
(Mexican top, capris)


insisting he use the inner tube,

and of course he would not.

As we argued, bounced and wound our way around the course,

 

I decided it was a draw.