Lest it be lost forever, only memorialized in Instagram-land, I have to start out with a "Casdorph" picture. If "Casdorph" was a verb, I think it would mean something like:
To use whatever resources are readily available in manners not originally intended to overcome a current obstacle.
As my mom pointed out, however, there are two variations on the word. In Arizona, it means to
temporarily use the resources in a manner not intended until a more permanent solution can be arranged. In Utah, the non-standard usage becomes
permanent.
In this case, Great Grandpa Casdorph was particularly worried about my little redhead getting burnt to a crisp. I knew that the special sunscreen we buy for his sensitive skin is practically invincible, but G.Gpa was still worried. They have a nifty three-cornered shade that covers the midsection of the pool, but a still-tentative Dylan was spending 95% of his time in the well-lit shallow end. So Grandpa set to work, attempting to
Casdorph the situation. He rotated one of the three corners so the shade landed squarely on Dylan's pasty white shoulders, but there was no where to anchor the rope. Undeterred, he rolled over his recycling can. I expressed my concern that it would just roll into the water, and he responded with the omnipotent smirk that seems to be a part of male Casdorph DNA. Then he added his green garbage can with the wheels turned in a perpendicular direction. Even though it seemed to hold securely, he overturned the wheelbarrow in front of the large cans for good measure. And I just had to get a picture.
Sadly, all that work went pretty much to waste, however, as Dylan got braver each day and ventured further and further from the shaded steps. Between his truly effective sunscreen and his increased mobility, there was no need for Grandpa to reprise the adjustment or to make it more permanent.
And as Dylan got braver each day, he eventually worked up the guts to jump in without me catching him. Once that happened, our vacation
truly began:
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