Sometimes, Your Spouse Sends You An E-mail...

...that innocently asks, "How did swim lessons go?"

Sometimes, the reply is worthy of a blog entry:

"Would me bursting into tears be too dramatic?

He refused to get undressed. Timeout.
He refused to take off his shoes. Timeout.
He refused to let me put on sunscreen. Timeout.

He refused to get in the pool, but I told him Sue was in charge and left. My errands took the whole hour (because I had to go to the clerk's office for a client) and when I got back, he was swimming a bit (though mostly hanging on to Sue). When he saw me, he started crying and begging to get out. Sue, to her credit, said, "I know you want to get out, but class isn't over. So you can sit quietly on the step and have no fun for the next five minutes, or we can try swimming like a puppy dog a little bit more." After a bit, he swam.

Ugh.

Then we went to Subway (because I didn't have lunch made for today). In line, I told him to give people "personal space" since he was pushing into the man in front of him. When we were sitting down, eating our lunch, he suddenly pointed his finger at a woman in line, where we had been standing earlier, and announced, "She is in my personal space. Make her move." Sigh.

Loki seems to be feeling better. He's been mostly sleeping."

Etcetera.