So, I'm signing Ryan up for the YMCA swim team this fall. He just doesn't know it, yet.
Rather, he doesn't know I'm seriously doing it. He thinks if he just keeps saying, "Mom, do you want me to drown?!" I'll back off. Nice try, son.
But here's the deal: Ryan doesn't like team sports. Or Wii Sports. Or even being a good sport. But he needs exercise.
The only activity Ryan takes part in with minimal grousing is his weekly bowling league. When I pick him up from school, he normally launches into how he has a headache. How he got no sleep the night before. How his throat hurts and, by the way, some kid puked in class. That's his minimal grousing.
Luckily, he always makes a miraculous recovery by the time we get to the bowling alley, by which time he's switched into "snack" mode. The other bowlers routinely pile their tables with something fried or cheesy -- or fried AND cheesy. I relent to a hot pretzel.
Ry: "I want a soda, too."
Me: "A water bottle."
Ry: "A Diet Coke."
Me: "A water bottle and no pretzel."
Ry: "Wait, they have cheese fries, you know."
Me: "You need to stop making sounds now."
The pool, on the other hand: No snacks. No drinks. This oughta be a cake walk.