Monday, March 8, 2010

Summer Fun minus a Diving Board

Since the sun actually peaked out and the temperature got above 60 degrees for a few minutes this weekend, I started thinking about getting my pool and pool deck cleaned up and ready for use. My kids enjoy swimming in the summer as much as I did when I was their age. They've got it even better now than we did because they have the benefit of waterproof sunscreen, more access to pools, swim classes at an earlier age, and pool toys that are much cooler than the inflatable rings and the random penny we had to play with growing up.

The kids today do miss out on one thing that was perhaps the best part of swimming in Florida every summer. The diving board. (just one more reason to luv the insurance industry!)

My sister and I used to wear ourselves out on the diving board. There were the swan dive contests that had to be judged by my Mammaw (over and over and over and over . . . ). Then there were the scary but thrilling efforts to learn to do a backflip off the board (Kids, you'll crack your head open! coming from my mom). And of course no pool day would be complete without our favorite game. The diver had to catch a ball thrown by a friend from the side of the pool before it hit the water. Even belly flops were fun.

Kids today just don't know what they're missing.

5 comments:

The Florida Blogger said...

Amen! I had so much growing up with a diving board. How much does the insurance go up with a diving board?

Florida Native Mom said...

Suwanee:

You can't even get insurance if your pool has a diving board. I have a friend who bought a house and the pool had a diving board and he had to take it out. Stinks!

R.Powers said...

... and the lawyers.

Sandcastle Momma said...

It's a shame - diving boards were the best part of swimming in a pool. Funny that we all survived them but the powers that be assume our kids won't.

Florida Native Mom said...

Sandcastle Momma, apparently our kids can't survive anything we did when we were young. Bike helmets, don't get me started . . .