They're on to me.

On Friday, Wyatt came home from school all excited and showed me this:

Mom, look what I made. Do you know what it is?

A ball of feces?

What's feces?

Poop.

No, it's not poop.

Are you sure? Because it looks like poop, and it doesn't smell that hot either.

It's putty! I made it out of dirt. Take its picture.

So I take the picture, show it to him, and set the camera by the computer. And then he says it:

Hey, you'd better not put that on your blog.

The gig is up. I am screwed. The kids know that I've been making fun of them on the blog for just about a year now. It occurs to me that someday, they may read all this. Uh-oh.

I think it's officially taper time around here. I got the long workouts in on Fri/Sat because I knew Sunday morning might be rough. Saturday was a four-birthday-party day, finishing with my friend Kerry's 30th at Level 4 in Waikiki.. a club that opens at 10:30 pm, half an hour after my normal bedtime. We danced until 2:30 am.. all the while wondering why the go go dancer on the left was so familiar. She was in full stripper attire, dancing like a stripper.. just not stripping. And, I realized a few cocktails in to the morning, she was my daughter's sweet little ballet teacher. Who, it turns out, is not so much sweet as she is hot.

So today was recovery morning.. which means paddleboarding! Katherine and I went out for a bit, but it was windy and there were some decent sized sets rolling through, so we didn't last too long. Just long enough to see a turtle, run into a few swimmer friends and paddle for dear life when the channel closed out.

Sky stealing the board.. and me, just before I realized that the surf was a little big for a leash-less paddleboard.

I came up this morning in a haze and overhead a conversation in the kitchen between Henry and Ramsey. Dad, what's an essay? and then, without skipping a beat: It's a gang friend. So now the poor kid is probably wondering if he has to join a gang to do his homework...