My parents were gone at a church function and I'm sure we were supposed to be doing something useful. We were poor Colorado country kids and I'm not sure any of us had ever been in a swimming pool. Maybe the older kids had been to the community pool in Pueblo, I'm not sure. I am sure I had never been in a real swimming pool, but I had received a plastic 50 gallon wading pool for my fourth birthday. It was shaped like a turtle with the neck being a little slide, and I mean little, maybe 20 inches. My sister had taped a nickle to it and I remember walking out of the hallway, with my hands modestly in my mouth as my family clapped for the birthday boy. I had a pool as good as the ones in town.
On this sunny day though, the Ballard kids were talking about what it would be like to be rich. "I heard rich people have indoor pools so they can swim even in winter. If you have ever experienced a Colorado winter you know that it can get cold, especially if your house is heated by a single wood burning stove in the family room.
Awe the life of luxury, it seamed almost in reach. But wait, an indoor pool you say? Is that the true measure of success? Well then, nothing but the best for the Ballard kids.
So we did what any upstanding idiots would do, we brought the pool in the house and into the room nearest a spigot. With a little team work we opened the creaky window and snaked the hose inside to fill up the pool, and of course we sent lookouts to see if Mom and Dad were kicking up dust coming down the road. Time fly's when you are living a life of luxury, and I guess it wasn't until we were all splashed that we realized the floor boards were bending beneath our feet. Then I think it dawned on us all at once. The pool was two flimsy too lift and too heavy to boot. The only way to drain those little pools is to dump them.
