Notice I didn't say Shark Boy and Lava Girl. Did you ever see The Adventures of Shark Boy & Lava Girl? It was a movie. Actually it was a piece of shit in the form of a movie. And in 3-D no less. I paid $4.00 per person to take my children to see this piece of 3-D crap. About 2 seconds into it, I was ready to rip my own eyelashes out one by one. Then I fell asleep. Then I yelled at my kids for wanting to see this torture chamber of a movie. And they laughed at me because I'm a crab ass and told me to put on the dumbass 3-D glasses so they could mock me. Which, of course I did, because I heart them that much. But the movie sucked donkey balls - just sayin'.
Luckily for all of you, the aforementioned Shark Boy is actually The Boy. With Shark thrown in front of his name. I'm clever that way. The Boy has shown a propensity for swimming. I love the word "propensity." I think that we should all try to use it at least three times today. I've used it once so only two more for me. But it's not a competition or anything - no pressure. Anyway, my boy is a good swimmer. And because our lives aren't busy enough carting The Girl to her various and sundry sporting events, we decided to have The Boy try out for a local swim team. Because we're insane. Actually it's because I have Catholic guilt and I feel like my male offspring gets the short end of the stick. Not because we don't love him - because we do. But because it's the curse of the second child. The first one gets the glory until the second one is old enough to steal away some of the spotlight. It's The Boy's turn to shine and The Girl's a little pissed about it. But she's pretty much PMS'ing all day every day so that could be part of the problem too. Back to The Boy. He swam in his first swim meet last week and was awesome. Here's a couple pictures - the likes of which you almost didn't see because I left my damn camera at the swim meet. The $300 camera that I won from The Pioneer Woman. It nearly pushed me over the edge (as if I need any help) but some kind soul turned it in. See, not all people are a-holes. Most are - but not all.
Here's The Boy getting ready to dive in for his freestyle race. I'm going out on a limb here but I'm nearly positive that the kid standing next to him has to pee. Just a guess. Or maybe he just wanted to fondle himself. Not that there's anything wrong with that...
Kick those legs, boy. You're going to need more than your arms to propel all 82 pounds of you to the other end. Believe me, I know. I think you've been cursed with your mother's metabolism, my son. I'll apologize in advance for that...
Second place! Who's this "Kross" kid? Our new rival, that's who. But we're not competitive in the least bit. Not even a smidge...
It's backstroke time. Is that like Hammer Time? God, I hope not. What the hell ever happened to MC Hammer? Is he dead? He's either dead or he found Jesus. That seems to be the two options of choice for the washed up '80s pop icons...
I hate close races. At this point, I was screaming like an escapee from the local nut barn. I know that's nearly unimaginable to all of you. Me screaming like a lunatic. Try your hardest to imagine it. It's a stretch, I know...
What the hell? That damn Kross kid won again. I demand a steroid test. Nevermind that my 7 year old is over 4 1/2 feet tall and weighs 82 pounds. He just comes from good stock. This other kid clearly has an unfair advantage over my boy. In the form of horse testosterone, I suspect...
Shark Boy swims again tonight. And he's taking Kross out - just sayin'.