The Sprinkler Things

My sons decided to forego swimming in our pool, the pool that I spent hours setting up due to the constant begging of me to do so, and the same pool which I have spent many a day cleaning and maintaining lest it become a haven for algae, in favor of jumping through the sprinkler of the kid down the street this week. While I can certainly appreciate a good sprinkler jumping session, they seem to now favor this to time in the pool. To my credit, I have yet to say “I told you so” to my wife.

I find myself wishing I had saved time, money, effort and my backyard grass by simply setting up a sprinkler in our yard. It requires far less supervision. There are no running costs like chemicals, filter cartridges or new pool toys to incur. The percentage of potential ear infections is virtually nil.

There’s also a certain romantic quality to the sprinkler. It conjures images of a wholesome childhood spent playing outside with simple, meager items. The imagination required to continuously run through a sprinkler for several hours but have it still be entertaining is an exercise in creativity.

But I suppose this is a grass is greener on the other side thing. They’re into the sprinkler now, but if we had a sprinkler and no pool, they’d be looking to go swimming. Instead of being bitter that I spent several days of my summer maintaining a now nearly abandoned pool, I should look at the bright side. My kids are learning to have fun with less. They are developing the ability to make fun wherever they go. I guess I’m a little jealous of them and that may be causing me to think negatively.

Who cares that they complained and moaned despite my warnings that they wouldn’t use the pool as often as they insisted they would (which, of course, was every day)? What difference does it make that I strained my back and inhaled caustic fumes while preparing a pool that hasn’t seen a human in it for a week (and I pray no animals, but I’m not watching it twenty-four seven)? Why bother to think about all the money spent on equipment to keep the damn thing up and running all summer? Is it that big a deal that I’m going to have to spend even more time and energy to take it down in a few weeks? So I don’t have the slightest where I’m going to put all that stupid water. Why should I worry about it?

I should just let go. In fact, I wouldn’t mind running through the sprinkler myself. Somehow the imagery of a grown man running back and forth across his front lawn and giggling uncontrollably as the cold water hits him from underneath just seems wrong, though.

What I ought to do is head down to the pool supply store and raid their shelves of the end of season clearance items. All I need is a lounger that can support my weight and one of those floating coolers, maybe the one that looks like a fishing bobber. When the boys come running into the yard and discover me floating in all my glory with a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, I’ll point them to the sprinkler.