More appropriately, Life Lessons from a 3-year old.
In the pool, neighbor and grandkids, and so forth. I looked up, everyone was congregated round the grill, picnic. It was just me and him. The kid is all of about three years old. Don’t ask, yes, I’ve done the chart on the kid, but that’s not what was top–of–mind. I am a non–threatening adult–sized person. At three, or whatever, he’s much, much smaller.
He had on a floaty, and certainly more than water wings, and I doubt I even had those. I’m from an age when they just tossed us in, sink or swim.
Splash! “Good luck, kids, now swim!”
That three–year–old?
He was, big grin on his face, trying to wrestle me. He had on that floatation device, it had an armband and chest protector, pretty safe, and he wasn’t afraid to trust the floaty, him jumping in with no fright, confident that he would be buoyed upright with his head above water, no matter what. Next, he was tackling me.
“I’m winning,” he confidently assured me.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, I’m way bigger than you,“ and I held him, a single grip on the floaty’s chest piece; kid couldn’t get at me. Almost comic — to me? It was hilarious.
Grabbing his little legs, strong and brown in the summer sun, I spun him around, a somersault in the pool’s tepid water.
“I’m winning,” he assured me again, as he emerged from the water, against his behest.
He’s right at 35 pounds, so I got up from the hot tub, tucked him under an arm, took two step to the big pool, and splashed us in, “Who‘s winning?“
He grinned. “I’m winning,” as he grappled for a better grip.
I grabbed him by the floaty again, swum him around.
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