Victoria dropped to her knees, used the noodle as a balancing bar, and began an impromptu circus act. She wobbled it on her nose (failed), used it as a snorkel (drank pool water), and finally—genius struck—she threaded the noodle through the handles of a plastic strainer, creating a makeshift “Noodle-scooper.”
The summer sun was brutal, but Victoria Cakes didn't care. She had one mission: to keep her toddler, Noodle, entertained without melting into the patio concrete. The kiddie pool was up, the hose was running, but Noodle was already bored, slapping the water with a half-deflated float. victoria cakes pool noodler
For the next hour, Victoria and Noodle played “rescue the rubber duck.” She’d launch ducks across the pool with the noodle-scooper; Noodle would shriek with joy and splash after them. Neighbors peeked over fences, laughing. Someone shouted, “You’re a professional pool noodler now, Vic!” Victoria dropped to her knees, used the noodle
By sunset, the grass was a swamp, the ducks were lost under the hydrangeas, and Noodle was asleep in a towel. Victoria leaned back, noodle still in hand, and whispered to herself, “Best job in the world.” The kiddie pool was up, the hose was
Noodle looked up, intrigued.
And from that day on, every heat wave brought out the Victoria Cakes Pool Noodler—part mom, part magician, all splash.