I forgot my bathing suit at our beach house, the baggy surf sort. That left me with my Speedos for an afternoon at a friend’s pool outside the city.
“No way!” my 12-year-old daughter said when she saw me packing my skin-huggers.
“Dad, you can’t wear those,” she said, taking them out of the bag. “You just won’t be able to go in the pool.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she said.
I took my book instead, and while they all splashed around in the pool I tried not to think about the emergence of a new authority in the family.