Finding Forty, Day 64; Hippos

This morning I decided to have a productive day.   Immediately, I knew the only real path to success in that arena was to tackle the disaster that is my closet.  Scattered, ditzy, disorganized are all fitting adjectives for me and my way of living.  I'm not sure I could ever maintain a pristine closet, no matter how hard I tried.

As I crawled into the battle zone, my youngest son walked up and asked if he could help.  He's still young enough to think projects like this are actually fun.    We talked as we sat and folded and sorted my clothes.

Him:   "You know, I call you Hippo."

Me:   "Yes, I know, you have for some time now.   But why?"

Him:   "I just love hippos!"

Me:   "Does it have to be hippo?   Why can't you call me dolphin?"

Him:  "Well, you're kinda big.   I could go with rhino instead."

Me:  "No, if I have to choose, I'm going with hippo."

Shortly after, he scurried off while I finished the closet.   Hippos are efficient like that.

This isn't a new thing.   Once, as I was leaning over the tub about to step in to find a moment of respite, alone with my thoughts and my Sweet Pea scented bubbles, he walked in and exclaimed, as he stripped down to nakedness, "Oh!  You look like a Mama Hippo at the watering hole.   If I get in with you, I can be your baby hippo."

As you can imagine, the bath just wasn't quite the same.

I should interject, at this point, a couple of things.   First one is, I'm not THAT big.   I'm active and still wear shorts in the single digit range (never mind if it's just barely).   I suppose because I'm bigger than him, I qualify.   Second point is that my son is obsessed with African animals and loves them in every way, shape, and form.   Honestly, when he calls me hippo, it's a term of endearment, crazy as it seems.

We are leaving in two days to head to the beach for a short, end-of-summer fling.   Even though vacations can be exhausting, especially when traveling with three kids, a playful dog, an on again/off again spouse, as well as another family of four and their excitable canine, I'm still excited about it!   Crazy, I know.

This morning, with my African animal loving son in tow, we headed to the local sporting goods store to pick up a few last minute non essentials.  I love buying little things for a trip, splurges that are completely unnecessary but also a bit of fun.  While meandering through the store, I thought I should look at swimsuits for me.   The two I own still fit, but with the extra 10 pounds I'm carrying this summer, I could truthfully stand to buy a suit that is a size bigger.   I wanted a tankini with a skirted bottom.   I had very specific ideas.

As we browsed through the swimsuit section, me bemoaning the lack of selection, my son pointed something out to me, "You know," he said thoughtfully, "hippos wear bikinis."

I had to laugh. 

"Yes, yes, I suppose they do, but this Mama Hippo just isn't ready for that yet."

Ahh, gotta let those good times, and a bit of extra belly fat, roll!