I had toddler swim duty again yesterday. It's a big hassle having to fly in for it, but it in the long run it will win me points when Lil' Buddy writes his memoir. Check it:

"My brave, handsome Daddy, made a nine-hour voyage by airplane, each and every week just so he could attend my toddler swim class with me. I love him so much. He is brave and handsome, and a blogger of consequence. Daddy is my hero. Plus he is funny and good at sports."

I can't wait to read that book. It's going to be awesome. I'm going to come off looking soooo awesome. The honeys will be all over me. I wish Lil' Buddy would hurry up learn to read and write already. I've offered to ghost write the thing for him, but he says he's afraid of ghosts. Wussy.

Unfortunately, my heroism this week wasn't rewarded. There was a communications mix-up with My Ex-Lady, and she thought I wasn't going to toddler swim. So she sent her new boyfriend, Francisco, in my place. When I got to the pool he was already there in his little black Speedos showing the world his package. He held Lil' Buddy in his arms as the two of them frolicked about, laughing and splashing. It was disgusting. I mean, his package is enormous, and those massive pectorals muscles of his are a terrible eyesore. Nobody wants to see that.

So instead of playing with Lil' Buddy in the water I had to partner up with Agatha, one of his little toddler school classmates, whose mom was a no-show. It sucked big time. Agatha was cute as little children who aren't my own go, but she talked and talked and talked and talked. Drove me crazy. She had to comment on everything.

"I'm splashing in the water! I'm splashing in the water! I'm splashing in the water! I'm splashing in the water! I'm splashing in the water! I'm splashing in the water!" she screamed.

It was like she thought I wasn't aware that we were splashing in the water. I mean, I was right there, getting splashed by her. I had the red eyes from all the cholorine to prove it.

Of course, Francisco and Lil' Buddy were oblivious to it all with their constant laughing and frolicking. It was kind of embarrassing, actually. I mean, the lifeguards and toddler moms kept gawking at them. It's like they've never seen an Italian male model in a tight little swimsuit with chiseled biceps frolic with an adorable little boy in a pool before.

"Francisco is pretty! Francisco is pretty! Francisco is pretty! Francisco is pretty! Francisco is pretty!" Agatha shrieked.

"Is not," I hissed at Agatha.

"Is too!" she replied.

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

And it was then that I accidentally lost hold of Agatha's arm and her head and the rest of her slipped under water. When I she came back up she was gasping for air and three lifeguards were on top of us, pulling us out of the pool.

Agatha survived, and after a few, tense, minutes with the pool's security team, I was able to convince them that it was an accident. By then, toddler swim was over, of course. When I went to the locker room to change I found Francisco and Lil' Buddy having a grand old time playing patty cake.

"Stop that!" I yelled at them.

"But we are a just a playing dee patty cake," Francisco said in his gotta-be-fake Italian accent. He's like a Mario Brother, only with a lot more muscles and perfect hair. And an enormous package.

"No, I meant stop having fun!" I said.

And then the locker room went silent and we all just sort of stood there thinking about how pathetic I was.

So, yep, all in all, toddler swim wasn't a lot of fun.

This post is dedicated to water wings.