Grace loves to swim.
Since she was teeny tiny, Grace has enjoyed swimming.
She was apprehensive this year when summer started, but now, she grabs her swimmies as soon as we are in sight of a pool. Once we’re in the water, she wants to swim by herself, to motor around just out of arms’ reach of Joe and me.
Today, however, she crossed the line from enthusiastic to overzealous.
It was 68 degrees when we arrived at our friend, Joanne’s house.
68 degrees at 4 in the afternoon in August.
That’s downright cold when you’re wearing only a bathing suit, let alone when you’re wet.
And Grace wanted to swim. She begged to swim.
Can we swimmin, Mommy?
The water was warm enough, 82 degrees, so I acquiesced and swam with Grace for a few minutes.
It was a farce. The water didn’t feel 82 degrees, and every time the breeze blew – even a little bit – I was wishing myself into a warm blanket. I was freezing.
Hoping to plant a seed in her brain, I asked Grace a few times, “Are you cold, Grace?”
No, Mommy. My not cold. My swimmin.
Some time later (I think it was a few minutes but it felt like two hours), Grace noticed Joe sitting on the patio. What Daddy doin? Daddy swimmin with us?
“Daddy forgot his bathing suit at home. He can’t go swimming.” (I think Daddy forgot his suit at home on purpose! I’m not sure if that makes him smart or stern.)
“No, Grace. Daddy said it’s too cold to go swimming.”
“Yeah. Daddy thought we’d get cold if we went swimming.”
We get out of water if we get cold?
“Yes, if we’re cold, we should get out of the water.”
Get out of water.
We were out of the water and drying off in the garage in under a minute. She didn’t need to tell me twice.
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