Better

Swimming class was better today. We were on time, and they skipped the "Welcome to our water cult" song.

The instructor did lead several other songs, complete with ambitious vocal flourishes that Randy Jackson might call pitchy, dog. The lesson of the day involved holding the baby like a football in hopes that leg and arm movement would ensue. Lyla's legs went nuts, but her arms were more nonchalant. I still think that if we lived in China, the government would have already swept her away to start training for the 2024 Olympics.

In other pool-related news, I'm getting a new phone. Recall that my old one took an accidental dip last week. It hasn't recovered despite the rice treatments, but luckily I unwittingly planned for such a snafu a year ago by opting for the total replacement plan. So that was a nice surprise, although the replacement phone, likely a store reject in the back of a warehouse somewhere, will be green.

Better than pink.