What do you do when your first born son graduates from the 5th grade?
A. Cry.
B. Wonder where the time went.
C. Take the family boating and tubing?
D. all of the above.
The correct answer is D.
All of the above.
My husband pulled Big Bertha out of the closet last night.
Not a good idea before bed.
The kids were all excited about the possibilty of taking her out.
Chase was way more excited about Big Bertha than he was about graduating.
Way. more.
Claire was so excited she wore her swimsuit under her clothes to school.
No. I did not ask her to do that.
No. I did not know she did that.
When I discovered the swimsuit during the commencement exercises, I asked Claire why she had it on.
She said she wanted to be prepared and she did not know how much time we would have to change.
Whatever.
We had about 2 hours.
Apparently that was not long enough.
On the way to New Bern, I looked out the back window and noticed Bertha was not as firm as she was when we left the house.
She was losing air.
Slowly.
Chad assured me that Bertha would be fine for the afternoon.
I was not so confident.
Chad ignored me.
We arrived at the landing.
The sun was blistering.
The humidity was unbearable.
We loaded the boat with kids, snacks, drinks, sunscreen and Bertha.
The day was perfect.
The kids had a blast on and in the water.
Bertha lived.
She lost a little more air, but she survived.
At one point Cole, who is four, said, " Daddy , I want to ride Berfa by myself."
To which Chad replied, "Sure, it will be fun!"
To which I replied, "Over my dead body!"
Chad stepped over my lifeless body and placed Cole into the tube.
Doesn't he look terrified?
Alone.
Thirty feet away from me.
In a slow leaking tube named Big Bertha.
I sat on the back of the boat.
My eyes fixed on Cole.
Ready to dive in if he came out of Bertha.
I was trying not to scream.
Cole was screaming with delight.
He could not stop smiling.
My heart could not stop racing.
The ride came to a stop.
Finally.
I was most grateful to have Cole back on the boat with me.
He wanted to do it again.
