Malcolm is red headed. It is colored from the wrath of his fury against all things that stand in his way of world domination.
Or vanilla ice cream.
Or pool time.
The boy loves water. He will stay in a tub of water for hours on end. He will wake up in the morning and put on a swimsuit in the middle of winter and suggest rather strongly that we go to the pool.
Seque to today. We went to speech therapy and I had mentioned to him that we would go to the pool afterwards. While in the waiting room, I hear his displeasure at being at speech. I hear the word “pool” yelled a few times and had to go in and reassure him we would go AFTER his session.
It did the job.
The we get home and the rain comes on strong.
“Wait until it finishes raining.”
Three seconds later, “Pool?”
You get the patten established here. Well we finally get to the pool and it is closed. Thunder watch.
If you want to actually see a red head’s hair get redder with anger, then take Malcolm to the pool, let him get right to the gate and then tell him that we are not going in. I’m serious. Just borrow him for a day and anger him.
So we go home with a promise of coming back.
So six saltine crackers, a cheese stick, and thirty minutes of the Minions later, we go back to the pool. It’s open. Red hair back to regular hue of red.
Then the bottom falls out of the sky. Lifeguard cannot see the bottom of the pool. Have to get out. But Malcolm does something neat. He just plays in the rain. It’s like the pool but above you and splashing on you. And there is dancing.
For three minutes.
Because it thundered.
I promised Malcolm we would come back tomorrow. He seemed to understand.
But if it rains tomorrow we will still go outside
Because Malcolm don’t care.