You Won’t Believe What We Did At Oma & Opa’s!

Well, mostly you will. But get this – we didn’t go to the pond. We went to…the beach! Here were the highlights of our beach trip:

We showed up right before Shark Week.

...like you give a little speed to a great white shark on SHARK WEEK! (Spoiler alert: we did not see any sharks.) — …like you give a little speed to a great white shark on SHARK WEEK! (Spoiler alert: we did not see any sharks.)

2) The water was deceptively beautiful. I say deceptively, because literally seconds after I emerged from my underwater dip in this lovely water, the lifeguard blew her whistle and announced, “The beach is closed for swimming due to unsafe water conditions.” Upon further discussion with the lifeguard, my mom reported back that, “they tested the water and it failed; most likely a dog pooped in it.” Sweet.

Isn't this water beautiful? — Oma and G breathing in some beautiful, beautiful poop water.

3) Turns out I’m not the only one my kids sucker into doing all their labor for them.

Here they are building a fancy sandcastle!

Heart-shaped rock I found in the coal mine/poop water after sifting through 16 tons of small rocks. — Heart-shaped rock I found in the coal mine/poop water after sifting through 16 tons of small rocks for the boss lady.

We did get paid in very animated stories though.

4) George set me up for a great line, but nobody was around to appreciate it.

5) Also, I finally got George to smile in a photo with Hazy and me.

Smiling + not eating towels in the same shot = too much to ask for. — Smiling + not eating towels in the same shot = too much to ask

After the beach, George napped, Hazy hung with Oma & Opa, and I went shopping by myself. It was luxurious. I bought the kids a bunch of cute back to school clothes, so keep an eye out for a future fashion show.

After naps, we headed for our penultimate trip to the Pinehills pool, where George swam a bunch with Oma’s help, and Hazy swam the full width of the pool for the first time. Also, my kids assumed new, weird animal identities and did the most inaccurate animal impressions since the Bluth family’s chickens.

I'm not George, I'm the worm! — I’m not George, I’m the worm!

For those of you keeping track at home, Opa made us some Chinese pork with broccoli, which we housed. Then, Oma proved that she’s in better shape than I am by carrying not one, but both kids to the car.

Points off for dropping the front child, Oma.

Last week, five minutes after we left my parents’ house, George announced that he had to go potty really badly, so I had to turn off on an exit, and have all three of us get into a gas station bathroom. So this time, I smartened up and made him try the bathroom before we left. At least I thought I did. Fifteen minutes into the drive, George announces he has to “try the potty.”

“Do you actually have to go pee, George, or just want to try? Didn’t you try the potty at Oma’s?”

“I didn’t. I have to try the potty really badly.”

“Can you hold it until we get home? In 27 minutes?”

“No, I really, really have to go.”

So, we pull off on an exit, wake up Hazy, trudge into a shady gas station bathroom, and sit George down on the toilet, where he announces, “I tried, but I don’t have to go.”

I’m not sure what the lesson learned here is, besides that George is a jackass.