Last August I started swimming with a master swim group. It's been fabulous and though I don't think I can swim much faster than I could when I started, I can definitely swim longer and at a steadier pace. However, during our hour long swims we swim anywhere from 2500-3000 meters. Some of these swims include sets where you have to keep track of laps which has never been one of my strong suits. Recently I made the discovery that I could better keep track of my laps if I named them instead of numbered them. So instead of swimming lap 1, lap 2, lap 3, I swim a Patrick lap, a Leah lap, a Matthew lap, and etc.
It's shameful how long I've gone without chronicling the life of my beautiful girl. And when I'm finally inspired to write, it's about trouble that she got in. Maybe I'll be better; probably I won't be...
On Tuesday of last week, Magda and I were doing our typical Tuesday morning rush to get everything done and get out of the house heading to our preschool group in time. Our morning was even more rushed since Stepan had the Prius on Monday so I had to reinstall the car seat. While I was busy in the car, Magda was running around on the driveway. I thought she had gone into the house when I noticed a car stopping at the intersection of our street.
The driver rolled down his window and called to me, "She's going down the street."
And I thought, "who is he talking about??" "My child?", I asked him.
I went to the sidewalk and looked down the street to see Magda halfway to the park, even with the backside of our fence. I called her name and ran up to her. I yelled; she cried; it was a scene. And she was very quiet during the ride to school. Now, everytime I tell somebody about the incident, she hangs her head and covers up her eyes and says she doesn't know what I'm talking about.