For both our sakes, I hope the lock is strong enough to keep me out.
“I want to go swimming,” Dante pouts, lagging behind as I try to pull him down the hallway.
Stella greeted us this morning with the news that we have plans, but she is under strict orders not to “spoil the fun,” apparently.
Exactly how much “fun” we’re going to have remains to be seen.
So far, convincing Dante to get dressed in anything other than his swimsuit is proving to be approximately negative fun for me.
“I know, but we can’t go swimming every day.”
“Yes, we can!” he chirps back. “The pool is inside. It’s climack patrolled.”
Dante’s little chin is raised. He’s clearly proud of his argument, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?”
“Climate controlled,” Stella chuckles. “I taught him that last nig
