Swim Brain

One of my favorite, but relatively dull lines is in Twelfth Night, I iii, "I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit." In graduate school, a colleague, knowing I was then entirely vegetarian, gave me a button bearing those words. Well, I am not a great eater of beef. I made the mistake of eating a single tiny bite of corned beef one year ago today and it literally nearly killed me.

My younger son, to whom I still refer as Tyke (his older brother, a jazz musician, calls him T-Bone), is a swimmer part of the year and plays baseball the rest of the year. Swim season just ended and he came home so laden with clanky medals, trophies, pins and ribbons that we will have to start a Wall of Fame right next to the multiple Michael Phelps posters (oh, and the now "commemorative" Kellogg's Corn Flakes cereal boxes which we could sell on eBay) in his room. A few days ago he was looking online and happened to discover that not only had he garnered a bunch of team records this year, but he was also second in the state in one event and third in another. Surprisingly, he has not developed a swelled head about this.

However, I believe he HAS developed some sort of encephalitis or mental problem from spending too much time in the pool. This calls for a new button, which should say, "I am a great inhaler of chlorine, and I believe that does harm to my wit." For here is an exchange between us from the other day:

Me: Why is it still so cold? It's actually somewhat spring-like outside, and I'm never cold, but today I'm really cold.

Tyke: Mom, think about what the badger said.

Me: ??????

Tyke: The gopher.

Me: ???? [staring at him] You mean, the GROUNDHOG?

Tyke: Mom. Whatever. Stop making fun of me.