Pool Party

After a long nap, we headed over to a pool party at one of Chris’ old co-workers new home. His friend Hilton just moved here with his wife and 1 year old from Rio a few months ago. Chris hung out with them a lot years ago when he was traveling down there all the time. I had only had dinner with Hilton once and then attended their wedding a few years ago here in Houston, so this was only my second time to meet his wife Kelda.

Well, the kids LOVE Hilton and Kelda. Or more accurately, they love their swimming pool. They swam the entire time we were over there, almost five hours. I know I shouldn’t put Robert in a floatie after just having had swim lessons, but I for one didn’t want to be in the water that long. I got in with him for a little while and had him practice and he did pretty well. Clara practiced too and did a good job swimming the width of the pool and turning onto her back to get a breath. She’s been complaining that she can’t float on her back, but she practiced and finally seemed to figure it out. I could get such better pictures if I’d actually put my head under and look at the screen.

We had the oldest kids there. Chris and I both commented how nice it was to not be worried about them falling in all night. All five of other kids were around the age of two, so there was a lot of chasing after kids.

Clara’s getting heavy.

Robert, on the other hand, still gets plenty of air.

Come 10:00, they were pooped.

The bbq was fun. It was Brazilian style, which meant Hilton just grilled different meat all evening long. He’d pull something off the grill, cut it up and everyone would just pick up pieces with their fingers. You’d have a few bites and then a few minutes later, he’d pull something different off. It was all soooo good. Bacon wrapped cheese and sausage filled peppers, bacon wrapped pork loin, flank steak, chicken, lamb, sausage. He had a big bowl of veggies and mushrooms that were just grilled with a little olive oil and you just picked out what you wanted with your fingers too. Seriously, no forks and no plates. I could get used to that. I’m always the one that just wants to use my fingers to pick stuff up when I’m over at someone’s house and then feel rude because I figure someone’s probably worried about germs.