This morning, I was treated to Three Year Old Swimming Lesson Duty.
Grumpy usually performs this role. He’s very good at it. Way more efficient at extracting local gossip from the other mothers there than I am.
We arrive a little later than normal, but not late. I hate sitting around the pool whilst Chippie plays, getting to the point of him being inextricably ensconced in his play then having to ask him to stop and get into his lesson. I like to have time to casually get him changed then allow him to participate in his lesson.
He chatted amicably on the way. Then, just as we were parking the car, I made the fundamental mistake of parking in The Wrong Spot.
Unfortunately, I have no idea which spots are wrong or right. You see, last time, there were no spots like where I parked today, and I parked the other side of the street. That was also The Wrong Spot, and Chippie informed me (and the rest of the neighbourhood) that I should have parked elsewhere. Back then, he pointed to the very location in which I had parked this morning, so I stupidly thought I was on a winner.
So … as it was, it was The Wrong Spot. Also, by this stage I had Stopped Giving A Fuck. We