The time 6pm. Jason just got home from work. I am in the back yard watching the boys while they swim. Occasionally they get out of the pool, grab their inflatable donut shaped tubes, pull them up around their waist and jump in together from the side. I love having the pool. Makes 104 degree heat indexes not worth complaining about.
Jason puts some weenies on the grill. Inside I've got mac and cheese and broccoli ready to join the hot dogs on a plate. We eat al fresco while Jason grumbles about the bills that arrived today. (Why couldn't he wait until later to do that?)
Harrison finishes his dinner first and says he wants to go swimming again. I get him out of his seat and grab his life vest. Jason gets up to pull the vacuum out of the pool. Harrison is in front of me by about 18 inches and close to the edge. He looks like he's going to jump, but surely he won't because he doesn't have his life vest on and he's just being naughty, but "splash", oh yes, he jumped. I fell to the ground to reach in after him in an attempt to grab him before he sunk too low. Jason, fully clothed from work including his shoes, jumped in after him and immediately pulled him out. Harrison didn't even cough, but the look on his face said he knew he did something he shouldn't have. Could have been that his daddy holding him was still wearing his jeans and shoes was an indicator that perhaps big H shouldn't have taken that leap.
Jason handed Harrison to me, I wrapped him in a towel, knelt down in front of him and calmly told him he scared me and that he should never jump in the pool without his life jacket on. With his big brown, sad puppy dog eyes he said, "ok" and gave me a hug. Then I kissed him and put his life jacket on.