Swimming, or Loitering in a Large Bathtub with Family and Strangers Whilst Crying

Mommy, Daddy, and the GrandServants took me swimming last week. I was not very happy with the first time, and expressed my dislike of swimming. My parental units, in their infinite wisdom, then decided to take me back multiple times. They even bought a device that made the whole experience more traumatizing, which was very thoughtful. As a side note, you may have noticed that I understand sarcasm now. Returning back to the subject at hand, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but maintained my disinterest as a matter of principle. There were two principles, the first being the same lesson at which my parents are failing teaching me: when I say something the first time, that will remain my answer. It is not that I do not understand that they are attempting to teach this lesson, it is simply that there is enough of a language barrier that I can feign ignorance and continue giggling while attempting to break Daddy's glasses, no matter how frequently he says no. The second principle is that I would prefer standing than being carried. Thus, you shall notice that I am most happy when Daddy is holding my feet as I walk along the edge. The only people who could adequately console me were Mommy, occasionally Daddy, and most often GrandDaddyServant Gates. Sadly, my cinematographer on staff (Daddy) failed his duties on the days I was with GrandDaddyServant Gates the most. I would fire him, if it was not for the fact that I do not pay him. You should also note that I have begun blowing kisses. This is a way for me to show affection to family and discretely express my interest in boys as I have not yet mastered the wink.