We went to the YMCA this afternoon, for the first time this summer. It was a nice hot, sunny day, and the Y was busy, but not terrifically crowded. The big kids swam around happily and kept themselves entertained. The seven-year-old (who still can't swim) clung to me in terror for a few moments, but quickly began making efforts to paddle on his own.
We left after an hour and a half or so. The kids complained, but I figured we were all out of shape for swimming, and that we'd all be worn out if we stayed much longer. I noticed the boys were dragging as they walked across the parking lot, and I thought smugly that I'd been right. I remarked that they looked tired, and the little guy said with indignation, "I'm not tired!"
We got into the van and drove home. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the driveway, looked in the rear-view mirror, and saw that Mr. I'm-Not-Tired was fast asleep.