Squirt Guns

A little over a year ago I started swimming at our HOA pool. It really is a great setting and is truly a benefit for living here. Last year at this time there were very strict Covid protocols in place. Only 25 people could be there for a one hour scheduled session. They also opened up lap swimming for five people for two early morning sessions. I had been doing water aerobics for a couple of years, so I rebooted my swimming memory. I soon figured out that I could become a lap swimmer — remember in a previous blog, I celebrated the day I swam a mile.
This year I hit the pool with gusto, with my brand new lap snorkel, goggles and lap fins. I was ready. It has been great. Last week on Tuesday I was unable to lap swim so I thought I would go to the pool in the afternoon for some water aerobics. I showed up with my own foam bar bells. It was pretty calm and I was able to find a space in the sweet spot of the pool, where there was not a squeal within 30 feet.
There I was doing 100 jumping jacks, 100 flying reindeer, crunches, stretching and generally loving life. Then, all of the sudden the back of my head was pelted with a direct stream of super soaker water. I spun around to see a tow headed three year old with a huge grin and an “I got him” look on his face. His terrified mother was leaping to grab the water weapon out of his hands. I said, “Hey that was a great shot, if you can’t stand the water get out of the pool”. She again said, “I am so sorry”. Again, a pleaded his case “If anybody deserves getting squirted on the head it is me”.
She let him keep his green plastic Star Wars Super Soaker and I went back to my exercise. It must have been about 10 minutes later, and I was facing another direction when round two landed with precision. This time I took off swimming shark style right at the side of the pool where the battle station was manned. I gave a perfect two handed water shove and covered him head to toe. He loved it and Mom said “He misses his Grandpa”. Now my heart soared—as I watched his boyish grin stay fixed while he reloaded. One more time he hit me. I was amazed that a kid that young had such a well trained aim.
Mom said, “That’s enough, thanks for playing with him”. I said, “It made my day”.

I finished up my swimming remembering all of the times squirt guns had brought me great entertainment. In Alamosa our yard, which was huge, was known for big time water battles. We were armed with balloons, super soakers with tanks on our backs, and if I do remember correctly, a battery powered continuously pulsing squirt gun that was a prized possession.
I was thinking back to Duckwalls, which was in the shopping center where I grew up. There were no such things as giant squirt guns. There were the black little guns that could easily be concealed in the palm of your hand. They were good for about 10 squirts but they had accuracy and range. Which in the 5th grade came in handy on the playground.
Wouldn’t it be great if the only guns allowed squirted water? Onward and Upward,

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