Yesterday I took the girls to their swimming lessons at the YMCA, as usual. Stitch had just gone down the steps into the water, looking adorable in her tankini and goggles I must say, when she came back out shivering.
“Mommy”, she said, “there are ass bugs in that water.”
WT everlasting F??
The other mom’s and the swim teachers converged, concerned about the possibilities, as I asked Stitch to repeat herself. Again she told me, “There are ass bugs in that water.”
Every adult was now looking at her with perplexed faces, and she was beginning to get upset about her failure to communicate and/or the stupidity of grownups. Clearly frustrated, Stitch said again, as slowly and clearly as her kindergarten lisp allowed her to, “Mommy! There are ass bugs! Ass bugs!”
I assured her that mommy was just having trouble hearing over the noise around the pool and it was okay and not her fault. Exasperated but trying to be patient with her elderly (and thus deaf) mother, Stitch tried again.
“Ass bugs, mommy. You know? Like they have in with the polar bears up north?”
Light dawned. “Stitch,” I enquired, “are you saying ICEBURGS?”
Relieved, she confirmed, “Yes! Ass bugs! That water is weally, weally cold.”
My God, how I do adore that child.