Pool Party

POOL PARTY

A Real Conversation with Twin R

I picked the twins up from school.

On the walk home, R started excitedly telling me that three boys in his year "went to the principal's office today because they tried to escape the school by going under the gate!"

One of the boys has a swimming pool at his house, so the three decided to head there for a quick swim.

Of course, R didn't say this in one sentence, as I have. It was a meandering story, with confusing divergences into other subplots involving unrelated things from school, some which were definitely exaggerated and possibly complete fiction. I drifted in and out of his monologue, not listening closely.

"They should've done it yesterday instead," I mused at the end. It had been 37 degrees then, and was a more mild 23 degrees now.

It was only later that I reflected on the inappropriateness of my comment. The real world implications of three five-or-six-year-olds trying to navigate their way home through busy Sydney streets, then jumping into a backyard swimming pool without parental supervision, is terrifying.

But something else with the story was drawing my attention. I stopped in my tracks.

"Wait, those boys are in the other class. How do you even know about this?"

"I was listening after I was sent to the principals office," he said calmly. Then seeing my face, he added: "oh, a girl tried to strangle me. I wasn't in trouble."

"Really? Just attacked you for no reason?"

"Yeah, I just bumped into her. By accident." The last part seemed unconvincing.

We were almost home by this point, and one of his school friends (and his dad) had caught up to walk with him. The twins and the other boy ran ahead, up the footpath together. For me, it felt like the end of The Usual Suspects where the limp disappears and the suspect strides into a getaway car, never to be seen again.

I had been verballed by Kinder Söze.

Later my wife decided she would get to the truth. She may have thought she was succeeding too, until R overplayed his hand, just slightly. As he described the conversation with the principal, he concluded: "...and then the principal made her write lines: I must always listen to the principal."

That was absurd. These kids can barely write. Also, where did he even learn about kids writing lines? Later I thought he should've insisted that she got the cane, just to fully commit to archaic punishments.

When the obvious lie was questioned, R smiled. "Oh yeah, that didn't happen," he said. "But last part is the only bit I made up!"