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Rather than correct his misunderstood notions about watery deaths or crush his imagination, we simply play along. Strap on our lifejackets and call our little guy captain because of his take charge attitude.
He settles himself in the front of boat in Tuck’s lap and clutches onto the paddler to aid his dad in the process while I get comfortable in the back, convinced I’m probably going to be doing less work than if I were at the other end.
Which is definitely for the best.
Like I said, boats hate me.
And accidentally tossing my son overboard is the last thing I need.
Especially considering what a terrible mother I already am for skipping morning leaf art with him in order to vomit up thehuevos rancherosI knew I shouldn’t have had for breakfast. Yes, bagels would’ve been better and lighter and most likely stayeddown, but Rich made the meal sound so irresistible that I was drooling about it in my sleep.
Ugh.
Pregnancy weight.
That was definitely one of myleastfavorite things about this experience the first time.
That and the constant trips to the bathroom to either throw up or pee.
Same medium.
Different techniques.
Maybe it won’t be so bad this time around?
OhmyGoya…what if it’s worse?!
“June Bug,” Tucker curiously calls out, “you uh…you paddling back there?”
Huh.
I…haven’tbeen, have I?
The real question is for how long haven’t I been?
And does that mean we’ve just been turning in place?
Going in circles?
Wait.
Have we moved at all?!
“Um…” Scrambling to get the paddler in the water on the same side as him causes me to bump my elbow on the edge. “Ou!”
His attention instantly appears over his shoulder to ask, “You okay, baby?”
The sight of his shimmering bright blues prompts me to be brutally honest.
No.
I’mnotokay.
I’m not okay with him deciding to run away for a month without talking to me first.
I’m not okay with him not asking me to come with him.
And I’m really not okay with him going somewhere heknowswe can’t take Lo.
