Mushroom Shower Power

Found out today that I didn't get the exec job, but that instead I'm moving to a different branch to work for an Army Colonel doing policy strategies for regional security or something. Don't have a lot of details yet. At any rate, it gets me out of the long deployments prior to having to worry about the pink diapers (though it won't preclude me from travelling from time to time). First impression is that this won't be as significant a plus as being an exec would have been, military records-wise, and that may hurt me in the long run. And I still need to ask if I'm being transferred to fill a Lt Col's billet or as some random worker bee. Or how long the assignment is. As with anything, I'll make it my own, make it fun. And at least I know a couple other people in there, and the office is literally across the hall. (Though the Colonel's secretary is the lady who didn't show up to make punch yesterday, so...)
Plus, one guy in my office said as if to cheer me up, "They have a bunch of hot contractors."
I replied, "I have a hot wife; I'm good."

Can't believe I was so bored three months ago and now there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done I need to. Taking Air War College by correspondence, and a test is due before I deploy. Just finished the retirement thing, have to give a presentation during tomorrow's recurring training since the guy it was assigned to said he didn't want to do it since he was leaving the AF next month, and I still have a rotation checklist and 8 other monitors to manage. Plus painting the sunroom and emptying the hot tub and trimming the dogs' nails and giving Ryan tips on how hold milk with two hands.

But since he and the hot wife had been cooped up all day, I suggested that we boys join Ainsley at the pool during her prenatal nautical buxom beauty bobbing session. So while she danced around on an inflatable noodle, Ryan and I hung out in the kiddie pool. He lost his balance once on the wide ramp heading in and bopped the back of his head, but he was okay the rest of the time, though he's damned if he's going to put his head under water. In time. So rather than swimming, he just sort of walked around (he wouldn't even let me cradle him and get him to pseudo-float on his back). Though he did get as far in as water up to his chin. We played with a Scooby-Doo ball and some rings from a basket on the side, then he pointed to another ball, saying "pink". Since it was good and deflated, I put it on my head. "Helmet?" Ryan asked.
Running out of things to do, I asked the lifeguard if the giant mushroom thing in the middle was working, so she got someone to turn it on, pouring water down in a six-foot perimeter from a height of about ten feet. We walked in an out of that thing for ten minutes, me holding him close as I walked. I tried to get him to walk through on his own, but he kept saying 'san-da', which I realized meant 'stand up, daddy, quit dicking around.'
Changing in the locker room afterward, a West African gentleman was next to us, and Ryan kept saying, "Uncle! Uncle!"
I had to tell him that just because his uncle is bald, not all bald men were his uncle.