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Geoff, Babe and I went to a pool party today at the church choir director's place. Beautiful house, beautiful pool, lots of food and lots of kids. Fun times for all.
As things were winding down, the hostess gave a small tour of their house (it's new to them) which I greedily went on (I love looking at other people's houses!) and we chatted and looked and chatted and plotted and suggested and chatted. It was getting pretty late, though, so we headed back outside to try and round up people.
Now, I should say that, although it was a pool party, I was not equipped to swim. My swimsuit is about 14 years old, and is, not surprisingly, a little too small for me at this point. Geoff and Babe both were suited up and ready to go.
When I came out from the house tour, I went and chatted with Geoff, and Babe came over, said 'hi,' then went trotting off to the pool. When he climbed up on the little shallow end wall and stuck his feet in, I told him to stop, because... yeah. No one was in the pool at that point, and the shallow end was on the opposite side of the yard. But, it was just a few inches deep at that point, and Geoff told me not to worry because Babe had been pretending to go in for the last hour or so.
But then Babe didn't pretend, he went in. As soon as his legs were covered, I walked over to him. He was mincing about in the shallow end, very pleased with himself and feeling generally good about being the rebel. I asked or told him to come back, I honestly can't remember whether I was polite or not, but, of course, being contrary, he toodled away from me, taking tiny steps toward the deep end.
He was well out of arms' reach by then, and I was getting really nervous because I know how it is in water, and when toodling along like that, it's difficult to stop and turn around because you've created a current that's helping you forward. Momentum and all that. So, when he reached his neck and wouldn't come back, I called for Geoff. I don't know how panicked I sounded, but I think it was pretty urgent.
And then, one second later, Babe hit the deep-end slope.
I crouched at the egde of that pool and watched as Babe's face went from that happy-proud "look at me!" expression, to really scared and, I think, calling out for me.
Geoff jumped in just as Babe's mood changed. If he'd been any later, I would have gone in myself.
Babe is fine; he coughed a little and thought about crying, but didn't. I'm not so sure about me, though. The blue cast to the water combined with Babe's expression, his eyes going wide and mouth opening into that scared grimace... It's the face a mother's nightmares are made of.
As things were winding down, the hostess gave a small tour of their house (it's new to them) which I greedily went on (I love looking at other people's houses!) and we chatted and looked and chatted and plotted and suggested and chatted. It was getting pretty late, though, so we headed back outside to try and round up people.
Now, I should say that, although it was a pool party, I was not equipped to swim. My swimsuit is about 14 years old, and is, not surprisingly, a little too small for me at this point. Geoff and Babe both were suited up and ready to go.
When I came out from the house tour, I went and chatted with Geoff, and Babe came over, said 'hi,' then went trotting off to the pool. When he climbed up on the little shallow end wall and stuck his feet in, I told him to stop, because... yeah. No one was in the pool at that point, and the shallow end was on the opposite side of the yard. But, it was just a few inches deep at that point, and Geoff told me not to worry because Babe had been pretending to go in for the last hour or so.
But then Babe didn't pretend, he went in. As soon as his legs were covered, I walked over to him. He was mincing about in the shallow end, very pleased with himself and feeling generally good about being the rebel. I asked or told him to come back, I honestly can't remember whether I was polite or not, but, of course, being contrary, he toodled away from me, taking tiny steps toward the deep end.
He was well out of arms' reach by then, and I was getting really nervous because I know how it is in water, and when toodling along like that, it's difficult to stop and turn around because you've created a current that's helping you forward. Momentum and all that. So, when he reached his neck and wouldn't come back, I called for Geoff. I don't know how panicked I sounded, but I think it was pretty urgent.
And then, one second later, Babe hit the deep-end slope.
I crouched at the egde of that pool and watched as Babe's face went from that happy-proud "look at me!" expression, to really scared and, I think, calling out for me.
Geoff jumped in just as Babe's mood changed. If he'd been any later, I would have gone in myself.
Babe is fine; he coughed a little and thought about crying, but didn't. I'm not so sure about me, though. The blue cast to the water combined with Babe's expression, his eyes going wide and mouth opening into that scared grimace... It's the face a mother's nightmares are made of.
