Scorched Earth Policy

It's a little warm. Triple-digit heat indexes, with quadruple-digit humidity. But hey, I'm not stationed in Greenland, so I shouldn't complain. (Hi, David!)
We escaped the heat on Sunday by taking a dip in the pool in my Dad's housing complex -- a large pool with wonderfully warm water, its size magnified by the fact that we were the only ones there for the first thirty minutes, until a woman with a leopard-spot one-piece and dark hairy legs decided to join us. Ryan had a blast swimming on his own time, still happy to jump in with wild abandon. Their rules wouldn't allow him to jump off the diving board, so he jumped from the side over and over and over. One time with me next to him instead of in the water, all Thelma and Louise-like.
Grandad was even nice enough to splash around in the wading pool with Erin so Ainsley could take a dip and throw her water-logged son back and forth with me. Which has to look odd from the lifeguard's perspective. Shoving a toddler towards a ladder in the hopes that big mo or little legs take him all the way to the steps.
Ironically, the toy in the kid's meal for lunch was a little plastic Ronald McDonald riding a dolphin.