Whichever.
The kids have swim lessons on Saturday mornings. And I'm a huge fan of watching...because here's a confession that will bore you straight to tears.
I can't swim.
Well, let's see, I can dog paddle (which Henry tells me is for dogs...what-evs). But I can't manage that graceful, fabulous swimming that the olympians (or regular people) do.
Actually, if I was on the outside looking in - I'd say this is another example of me living vicariously. But I'm not on the outside, I'm on the inside. So it's fine. Just fine.
Anyway. It's a cold, fantastic way to start the weekend.
And here's another confession.
I totally dig being out-done by two sinky Sewards.
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