Friday morning started gloriously, I work moments before the Little Sister and watched her yawn, stretch and then remember. She rolled quickly and drew back the blind. The water park was still there!
Mummy, it’s morning time!
Then the shining aqua jewel in this crowning family holiday morning: encouraged by the warm water and her smiling father, the Little Sister got her swimming mojo back!
She’s been a little fish since I started weekly swimming lessons at six months old, but since her whooping cough she’s been fearful of the water. We suspect it’s because she had so many instances when she couldn’t catch her breath. Once a happily anticipated outing, Tuesday swimming lessons became a weekly battle of wills, which inevitably ended in tears (sometimes mine). I was surprised at just how relieved I was to see her rediscover her love of the water.
Eager to cement her newly-rediscovered love of the water, we returned to the pool that afternoon. The Big Sister had made a bestie quickly and they set about practicing their audition for the 2018 Commonwealth Games Synchronised Swimming Team. The Little Sister & I were floating around the pool on noodles when I realised we weren’t alone.
Obviously we weren’t alone: there were so many children in the pool the water resembled kid soup. I mean, we weren’t the only things floating.
I studied the mass from a distance. Could it be? No, it’s so big. Yes, it is.
Lillian, get out of the poo! There’s a poo in here!
Now my powers aren't often described in biblical proportions, but Moses would have been jealous of how quickly I parted that pool. People went scrambling for the exits, parents called wildly for their children and all this time the big brown floatie just bobbed in the water. A crowd gathered to watch it bob all the way to the skimmer box.
It disappeared just as a lifeguard arrived to see what the commotion was about.
Then the guilty party emerged from the commotion. Now, you’d be forgiven for thinking the excitement had become too much for a toilet training toddler: the lure of the warm sparking water had held the tike too long. You'd be wrong.
The sheepish culprits were two fully grown men. They’d bought a fake floating turd to the resort. The poo was plucked and the pool quickly refilled with families. I’d loved to have had the opportunity to chat crap with them after they’d owned up. How long had it been swimming amongst us before I raised the alarm?
Do fake poos come in different sizes?
Where does one go to purchase such an item?
Paradise Resort on the Gold Coast has been on my sand bucket list for ages. Our weekend didn't disappoint. You can read the lowdown on Paradise Resort here.