It’s late in the season and I’m closing the pool. “Who wants to play TITANIC?!?” I ask.
“OOOO! Me. Me!” Cry my daughters.
We go down to the pool and I tell them to get in the little raft. They do. I pull the plug out of the raft, put it in my pocket and push them out to the middle.
“Aren’t you coming in the raft?” they ask.
“Nope.”
“What are we doing? How do we play?”
“Just wait.”
While they wait I go about preparing the pool for closing, keeping the raft they are in in the middle of the pool with the occasional prod of the skimmer poll.
“Daddy, I think the raft has a leak.”
“No. I took the plug out.”
My eldest thinks about this for amount. “Is this how you play Titanic.”
“Yup.”
“I don’t get it.”
“There’s not much to get. The water is 50 degrees and your boat is sinking.”
The struggles begin. They scream and cry and beg and fight. I sing Celine Dion.
“Near…Faaarrrr…Wherever you are… cause I know that the heart will go on.”
“No. Daddy No! We’re sinking! Help us!”
“You want me to come help you?” I ask.
“Help us. Please!”
“Okay. Here I come!”
“No Daddy no! The Raft won’t hold you! Nooooooo!”
“Cannonball!”
Splasssshhhhhh!
Ten seconds later we climb out of the freezing water and run to the house.
“Ok,” “Who wants ice cream?”
Good times. Good times.
You may think I’m cruel but they fall for this every year.