Good money.

This year, we bought a season pass to our local swimming pool.
I am aware that the whole town uses this facility for their Saturday night baths.
However, they do use a lot of chlorine.
I have seen the teenagers working there test the water on several occasions.

It is pretty scientific.
They use an eyedropper, and squeeze the test sample from the pool into a glass beaker. Then they swirl it around, and look closely at the circling vortex.
Then they dump the sample back into the pool.

I figure they are looking for floating specks of poo.
So far, so good.

It also makes me feel better to know that the "Pool Rules" are posted, and they include "Do Not Swim in the Pool if you have an Open Infected Sore."

The kids were giddy about the season pass!

The first day we purchased the pass, I went with the kids to the pool.
I sat in a sticky plastic lawn chair, and read a magazine while they got things figured things out. Everyone swam, and swam. Their eyes were red, and their shoulders sunburned.

The next day, I laid down the rules.
"You have to get your rooms cleaned, and do one job of my choosing before you are free to ride your bikes to the pool."

Literally, it was as if I were Snow White, directing all of my little woodland friends into spiffing up the cottage.

Jobs done.
Kids soon pedalling furiously to the oasis of the pool.

Day three.
"Hey, guys! Your rooms are still clean, so come get your job assignments for today, and you can all head on over to the pool!"

(This summer is going to be awesome!)

And the awesomeness came to a screeching halt.

"Nah, we don't want to go to the pool. It's boring."

At this point Snow White morphed into the Wicked Step-Mother:

"You WILL go to the pool!
And YOU.
WILL.
LIKE.
IT!!!
We paid GOOD MONEY for a YEAR OF SWIMMING! A YEAR!!"

Off they went.
My angels like swimming...