91 Degrees Again?

Our little wading pool has been in dry dock since last fall in what the Army Housing Manual calls our "drying yard". The drying yard is a dirt pit partially enclosed with a fence and equipped with an antiquated spiral clothesline strung with old dirty string of questionable strength. Before he left, the HP fastened the pool to the inside of the fence, and so it has remained, becoming more and more caked with dirt with every passing rainstorm. The pool is going to need a long date with Mr. Clean, a scrubbrush, and me (and possibly Aunt Kate unless she reads this before she begins her journey down to visit) before it can be considered safe for kiddie play.

We also have a slip 'n' slide which was the only thing Aislinn wanted last year for her birthday, but it is rolled up in the storage box outside, and it too probably needs a good scrubbing. I'm not entirely sure whatever happened to our lawn sprinkler, but I believe it was borrowed and never returned in Kentucky. When we got back from running an errand this afternoon, I was seriously considering letting the kids loose with the hose.
Fortunately, since all three of our children have never forgotten a single thing that has ever happened in their lives, one of them remembered that we had a sprinkler that could float in the pool. We decided to test the theory as to whether it could also float on the lawn. Luckily for all involved, water was soon spraying everywhere.