Dear Stupid, Lazy Lifeguard:
Perhaps you will remember us. We were there on Friday. You were sitting at the top of a short slide when a cute little blonde in a pink bathing suit (get your head out of the gutter – she’s four!) ran up and plopped down onto her tiny little bum and proceeded down the slide you were supposed to be guarding. The slide you were to stop little people from going down.
You were sitting on your duff watching while my sweet little nutball discovered she could not touch the bottom.
You sat there while her arms flailed and she cried and struggled.
You continued to sit, watching, perhaps the fiasco down in the pool below you, or perhaps some little bikini clad thing walking by, while I ran over and jumped into the pool to save my little girl.
I know. I’m her parent.
I know. I’m responsible for her while I am at your waterslide.
I also know. You didn’t do your job.
I know. You didn’t give a damn.
Does it bother you, Stupid Lazy Lifeguard, that my little nutball was scared to go in the water after that? That my fearless freak of nature didn’t want to go down the waterslides by herself?
Do you care that Liv was up last night having nightmares? That in her tiny little four-year-old-person dream, we didn’t get to her on time?
Just so you know; I hate you, Stupid Lazy Lifeguard. I hate you, and by the way, you’re ugly too.