My Kids Are Those Kids?
So there you are, relaxing poolside, reading a book or closing your eyes for a quick nap . . . and you hear a family with a couple of kids arrive and they absolutely ruin the vibe: these kids are loud, and they fight, they splash with the intent of blinding each other, they bicker violently, scratch and dunk each other, attempt dangerous stunts, dive where they aren't supposed to dive, run where they aren't supposed to run, and whip a ball at each other instead of playing catch with it, and then they finally have to be reprimanded by their parents . . . and I am very sad to report that these kids are my kids, and wherever they go, they destroy whatever mood existed previously, and no matter what we do -- short of beating them senseless in public -- my wife and I can't get them to stop being like this; I think because they are so close in age, they live in their own little universe . . . they don't notice other people or their surroundings, and perhaps someday this will be a benefit -- they certainly aren't self-conscious -- but right now, they are the scourge to anyone lying in a lounge chair with a book.