Wanna Get Away?

I had a funny memory I want to write down before it ends up in the overly crowded land of lost memories.

It was summer. Will had just turned two that March. We were living in stifling, suffocatingly hot Baltimore, where a pool is a lifeline in the summer. We opted for survival and joined a swanky pool club where happy children abounded, where rafts, slides, snack bars and happy moms and dads were aplenty. Life was good at the pool club. Really really goood.

We had gone to Target to buy ourselves one of those little blow up contraptions that we could put Will inside to keep him afloat - we called it his boat. When he saw us blowing it up, he clapped his hands and squeeled in delight. To watch us blowing up his own personal raft was better than anything this kid had ever seen in his short life. He was amazed at how it grew from a flat pancake into a big puffy boat for him to sit in. "My boat blows up! It's a blow-up boat!" he shrieked over and over again. The growth! The language! He even loved the alliteration of it all.

Will and I were holding hands walking by the side of the pool to get a drink at the snack bar when a woman passed us going the other direction. She was carrying a couple of cheeseburgers, some french fries and an extra large soda. She had a nice big fuchsia painted smile, her nails were gleaming red, a Bal'more updoo of a hairstyle sat atop her head like a crown, quite a bit of sweat dripped down her enormous cleavage, and a large skirty-type bright blue bathing suit was trying its hardest to do its job of covering her various parts. She had ...how to say it...let herself go a bit, and was easily pushing 350. Big girl with an especially impressive backside. Huge.

She zeroed in on Will, waddling right up to him with unrelenting focus. "Oh, isn't he cute? And how old are you, little guy?" She couldn't have been any sweeter, really. She bent right down to Will and smiled at him, balancing her mid morning snack in her hands.

Will looked at his wet toes and squeezed my hand a bit harder. "He can be a little shy," I lied. "Will, say hello to the nice lady please. Tell her how old you are."

He looked her straight in the mascara laden eyes and said in his biggest boy voice, without the slightest lack of clarity...

"You have a blow-up bottom!"



Wanna get away?