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He grumbles under his breath as Izzie spins around to face him, her hands planting on her hips, her face a mask of seriousness.
“Go and get changed.”
“Nope.”
She stomps her little foot. “Yes.”
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
She watches him for several seconds, staying silent until he finally looks up. My lips lift into a smile, knowing exactly what she’s going to do. She has him wrapped around her little finger, just like her dad.
Her bottom lip wobbles as she sniffles.
“Ugh! Fine.” He stands up, closing his book, his brow furrowing as he stares at her for several seconds before his shoulders lift on a sigh. “I’ll go and get changed.”
He walks off into the house and as soon as he’s gone Izzie flicks her blue-eyed gaze up at me and grins. “He’s gone to get changed.”
I chuckle. “That he has.”
She gives me a knowing look. She may only be nearly six but she knows how to get what she wants. I don’t encourage it, but days like today when I know Clay is stuck inside his own head—just like his dad gets—I know he needs a distraction. And playing in the pool for an hour or two will do just that.
Izzie’s little hand clasps mine and we both walk into the water from the shallow end, my black bikini bottoms getting wet as we go to my waist height.
I show her how to do a mushroom float, going under the water briefly so she knows what to do. She tries to do it several times until she finally gets it and breaks the surface, catching her breath and squealing she did it.
“Bombs away!” No sooner do we hear Clay shout does he cannonball into the pool, splashing us both with water.
“Clay!” Izzie shouts, her laughter surrounding us. “Show me how to do that!”
“Be careful,” I warn, standing in the water on the other side as she gets out along with Clay so he can show her.
Maybe I shouldn’t let them do it, but sometimes telling them not to only means they’ll try and do it when nobody's watching. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell someone not to do something, all it does is intrigue them to do it more. It’s safer to let them try and to be there to catch them if they hit the water at an awkward angle.
Izzie stands at the edge of the pool next to Clay as he instructs her. “You need to jump, bring your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them.” She leans down to wrap her arms around her legs. “No,” he says, shaking his head and snorting. “You jump as high as you can toward the water and then bring your knees up.” He takes a couple of steps back. “I always do a run up... Watch.”
She stumbles to the side as she watches him intently do a cannonball into the water before she readies herself to copy him.
“Be careful, Izzie,” I warn a second time, nerves batting around in my stomach. Maybe I really shouldn’t let her do this?
She has no fear as she runs toward the pool, jumping and doing exactly what Clay said.
“Yes!” he shouts, holding his hand up for a high five when she comes back up.
“Did I do it?” she asks, her eyes hopeful as she smacks her palm against Clay’s.
“You did,” I say, paddling closer to her. She holds her arms out to me, and I pop her on my hip.
“Yay!” She fist bumps the air. “Thanks, Clay.”
He shrugs. “Anytime.”
He hates being praised; you can see it makes him uncomfortable and he tends to go off on his own when it happens. Just like he’s doing now as he swims toward the deeper end of the pool.
“How about a game of volleyball?” I ask, placing Izzie on the side of the pool as I grab the net.
“Me and Clay against you?” Izzie asks.
