We (Shef and I) spent the weekend in the air-conditioned loveliness of my mom’s house. It was unbearable here, and Shef loves Nana and her dog, Slobbery Amber.

Dan, on the other hand, spent the weekend working away at his office, penning important legal briefs. So, while he also enjoyed air-conditioning, he didn’t get to hang with the golden retriever.

On Sunday, I wrangled the troops – Nana, Shef, and myself – for a trip to the Y, where they have a “leisure pool” with slides and fountains and waterfalls. This keeps Shef happy for a good forty-five minutes, which makes the nightmare of showering a wiggly, slippery male child, who has learned how to say “penis” and discovered that his outside voice echoes satisfyingly off of tile, almost worth it.

On the way there, we heard John Mellencamp’s “Hurts So Good” on KS95, and my mom said one of those things I wish she wouldn’t:

“You know,” she said, “I’ve always liked this song.” Shef bopped away in the back seat, affirming its undeniably catchy beat. “But the other day, I was singing along to it on the radio, and I thought… Well… is it about S&M?”

“Moooom,” I replied, sighing deeply.

“No really,” she pressed on. “Listen: ‘Hurts so good, c’mon baby make it hurt so good,’” she sang a few bars along with John. “’Hurts so good’… See?!”

Mmm-hmm.