Soon enough they sent a messenger to urge me to come down and swim. “Mom, you HAVE to come swimming. It’s awesome!,” coaxed Samus. “I will, just a minute.” “Mom. Get your trunks on!,” Samus demanded. I looked up and said, “I don’t own any trunks.” Exasperated he replied, “I’ll go get them for you.” “Samus. I do not own any trunks, and I have never owned any trunks.” “But mom! You do too!” “Child. I am a girl. I have several SWIMSUITS in the camper, but I do not have any trunks.” “Oh. Well, get your swimsuit on then!” I relented and headed down our private trail to the beach.
You may know this, but last year we toured and swam in all the Great Lakes. Ever since then, after floating around in beautiful, cold, clear lakes for a month, I have refused to swim in any muddy, murky lakes. So pretty much every other lake ever. That is why I didn’t swim at Lake of the Ozarks. Too muddy. And poopy as it turned out. But, when the boys raved about the “crystal-clear waters” I thought, what the heck.
Apparently, my idea of crystal-clear waters and the boys’ idea of the same thing are vastly different. For instance, while I think of the bathtub as crystal clear, the boys are cool with The Big Sioux. Needless to say, Energy Lake is not the shimmering blue waters of the Carribean. Still, it was my boys, and I do actually love them and want to make them happy, so I reluctantly waded into the muddy-bottomed lake and splashed around with them for a while.
Jason, Marcus, and Samus were like dolphins, jumping, twisting, and gliding through the water head fist. My dear sweet Lucas though—he is definitely my child. We spent our time hopping around and stage yelling, “Ah! What was that?! Ooo! Something touched my leg! Eww! This is really muddy right here. Ah! There’s something swimming by my feet! AH! AAHHH!” To be fair, there are a lot of water snakes in the area. In fact, when we finally decided to disembark one had slithered onto the beach and was getting a drink of water. We stared at it until it started hissing and coiling up. That was enough of that.
The rest of the day comprised of some serious games of Carcassone on a table made from a skim board, camp chair, and a stack of logs, reading, and watching the fire.
Once the kids went to bed, Jason and I were enjoying the crackling fire and the screaming goat frogs, when suddenly the sky let loose and tipped her bucket right on our heads. That seemed like a natural end to the evening, and we went to bed with more happy memories.
**I would like to note that my swimsuit liner, normally white, had turned a nasty baby poop shade of brown after being in the lake.
** Also, here are a few Marcus-isms:
- After showering in the campground bathhouse: “Best shower in my life!!”
- “Dad, is it more likely for you to get ran over by a train or a car? Which would you rather get hit by? I choose car because you could duck it if you were really small.”
- After I started reading ridiculously soft to him for about three pages after I thought he had dozed off: “Excuse me, mom. Could you read a little bit louder?”
- “Did you know babies don’t have any fear? Nothing.”
- “Are we going to Oklahoma? It’s a state. I’m pretty sure I announced it correct, right?”
- “I really like trail mix except for the dried up grapes. They’re disgusting.”
- Referring to a gross scrape on his leg, “Should I be like really freaked out about this?” Jason: No. Why? “Because of the risk of infection.”