the compromise might be a wetsuit and 1/2 dozen glazed

The kids have been in swim team for the past year and it has been a (to quote my sister, Beth) "metza-metz" experience.  Sometimes we love it, sometimes we don't.  Consider, we bailed out on the last month of our Sunday-night swim team because I couldn't keep up with the 7:00 PM start-time.  Now, it's summer and we're in full swing with summer swim team that starts at 9:00 AM.

While 9:00 AM during the week, is much more preferable than 7:00 PM on a Sunday, the problem with 9:00 AM swim in northern Virginia, in an outdoor pool surrounded by trees - is that ... well, it's chilly. Especially if you are one of my blond haired children and you reach for a sweater when the temperature drops below 80.



William and me, we're cut from the same thin-blooded cloth. Carolyn and Henry have no concept of "cold." I don't think I've ever seen either of those children chilled. The scientist in me thinks it might have something to do with the general difference in body composition. As for Elizabeth, she definitely gets cold, but could never stop moving long enough for such frivolity as putting on a coat. Pfft!  

Charlie is adamant that William get in the pool and swim - even though it's cold - because the more he swims the more he'll warm up.  My husband who swims all the time, has good experience with this phenomenon of an increase in body temperature as a result of an increase in heart rate.  As for me, ye who hates to be cold and out of breath, I think that William should just put on a pair of cozy sweatpants and sweatshirt and cuddle up with a cup of hot cocoa until he's good and ready to jump in the pool and not a minute before. I mean, it's not like we're trying to raise the next Michael Phelps.

Despite my opinion, Charlie thinks our eight-year-old needs to toughen up and fulfill his swim team obligation despite the fact that William is filled with absolute angst about having to get in to that cold pool every morning.  From my softer more squishy perspective, I see absolutely no good that comes from having an eight-year-old filled with unnecessary dread about something that is supposed to be FUN, so I've told my son that he doesn't have to go in the pool if he doesn't want to and why doesn't he just come with me and I'll buy him a nice donut and put some meat on those little bones?



And yes ...  of course he can live with me forever.