This morning the family went to church in Hanksville and then drove out to Lake Powell to see the lake from that side (which has never been done before). I think that's the side with the Bullfrog Marina, though I don't think I've ever actually been to Lake Powell before, so don't take my word for it.
When Karen was telling me about stopping by the lake I asked if she wanted me to send along Benjamin's puddle jumper. He can swim but, you know, peace of mind and all that.
"No, I don't think we'll be getting in," she said. "We're planning on going on Sunday."
But then when I was packing, Reid said, "Make sure to pack things the kids can get wet in because we're stopping by Lake Powell."
"Oh, Karen said you wouldn't be getting in," I replied.
He scoffed and asked, "Do you really think your children can look at the lake and not get in it?"
My little water babies? The ones who want to go swimming every day? The ones who claim toilets as their personal wading pools? The ones who must splash in every puddle, dance in every rain storm, run through every sprinkler?
"Yeah, no," I agreed. "But they each packed an extra outfit so they can get wet in anything (except their church clothes, of course)."
So, that's what happened this afternoon.
Karen texted me around 6:00 to say, "By the way, we did NOT let the kids swim in Lake Powell this afternoon." And Shayla tagged me in this picture on Facebook:
