Poppy picked the boys up from summer camp this afternoon while I was driving my mom home from a two hour eye doctor appointment.
The teenage counselors told my dad a brief story regarding Little E falling off his pool noodle in a deeper area of the pool, but they insisted he was fine.
My dad relayed the story to me via phone and when I arrived home, I began the FBI questioning.
On Little E's camp registration, we had classified Little E as a non-swimmer. A more accurate classification would be a partial swimmer. He can swim, really swim, he just can't (or won't) lift his head out of the water to breathe. So he can only swim as far as he can hold his breath. Then he just starts drinking dirty pool water.
I was a little concerned that he was floating around in the deep end of the pool.
I was even more concerned when Big E began telling me how everyone within a two mile radius jumped into the pool to save him, including the lifeguard. It was like some bad 80s after-school special on drowning.
Every time I pressed Big E for more details, the story became more and more outrageous. At some point, a rescue helicopter made it's way into the neighborhood to save his brother.
Little E said very little about the pool incident. I don't know if it is because nothing major happened or if this is the beginning of the secondary drowning process I've seen posted all over Facebook.
At drop off tomorrow morning, I hope to get the full, accurate story on Little E's pool mishap. It's not that I don't TRUST Big and Little E, it's just they have crazy doomsday imaginations, and I just want to make sure I have all the facts before I allow myself to freak out.
Stick to the jacuzzi, Little E. For my nerves' sake.
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