Every morning David asks me what we’re going to do. Is it a school day? Or a park day? Is someone coming over? Is today a church day?
Then he gets down to it. “Mommy, is today a swimming day?”
No, son, it’s not. That’s my usual answer. Except when we were on vacation. On vacation every day was a swimming day.
David loves the water. He loved it when he was a baby and he loves it more now.
We have a slip ‘n slide that pools about two inches of water at the bottom, and David holds his nose and tries to submerge his body. He sticks his head in our water table. He faux-swam in a deflated kiddie pool, working his arms and legs like Scrooge McDuck in his piles of money.
Sometimes, completely out of the blue, David asks me, “Mommy? Why are we not swimming?” And I can’t think of a single thing to tell him.
And here’s where I’m going to stop. You see, I had a whole post scripted in my head about how the best way to describe David in the water is to compare him to a Labrador. But not just any Labrador, David is like my parents’ 14-year old Labrador, Hudson, who loves the water much more than a normal Labrador. One summer, Hudson figured out how to roll a ball down a hill into the lake. He did it so many times that he lost a substantial amount of weight and his veterinarian had to put him on exercise restriction.
Hudson loves water so much he jumps in and out of the pool until his paws bleed. And even then he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop until my parents remove him from the water and put him in the basement. Again, he’s 14.
I was going to compare David to my parents’ dog, and finish with a picture of the two of them, miserable together when we enforced rest time so they wouldn’t drown in a pool of their own fervor.
I was going to say all that, then I happened to search my blog for previous posts about David’s love for water. I wanted to cross-check to make sure I didn’t repeat myself, you know, because my fans would BURN THIS SITE DOWN if that happened.
At least this time around it was a different Labrador.