The other night, some friends had invited us over to their house to go swimming. Sean was floating around on a little raft with the future Mrs. Sean while Antique Daddy and I stood nearby chatting up the grown ups. I’m not sure what happened, but somehow he went overboard.
I saw him go in but I waited a split second to see what he would do – if he would try to swim to edge, if he would instinctively flap his way up to the surface and grab the side of the raft, if the expense and grief of swimming lessons had paid off. Answer: no, no and L no. He took to the water like a 30-pound bag of flour. He was heading south. So I jumped in and grabbed him and swam over to the edge of the pool.
With his arms around my neck, he blinked the water out of his eyes a couple times and very calmly said, “Thank you mommy for saving me.”
He may not be potty trained, but by cracky that boy has good manners.
He will be the best mannered boy in diapers in kindergarten. And his mother will be proud.