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.
Popular posts from this blog
I bet you didn't expect to hear from me... At 8:45AM this morning, I had a very worried child wake me up. He was ultra concerned that we were not yet up. How were we going to stick to the schedule I had printed out? The schedule I printed out in attempt to convince myself that this homeschooling/quarantine would not be the dumpster fire, that deep down, I knew it would be. I don't normally sleep this late, I promise. But Mr. Yoy and I were up extra late last night, finishing off the Hunters. I fell asleep around 2AM. I checked my phone and I had a very special message from a very special lady requesting I resuscitate the Mrs. Yoy blog, at least for the time that we are locked in, as she needed some laughs. So here I am. It's a little after 6:30PM. No one in my house has died and I feel like I need some praise and validation. The morning wasn't so zen. 9AM was P.E. time per Little E and his militant schedule, so we went out for a walk/bike ride. We came back
Day 65. I first want to say Happy Birthday to my best friend who would have been 44 today. I found a funny email exchange we had with each other back when we both first had our babies and had zero clue as to what we were doing. DOES THIS THING COME WITH AN OWNER'S MANUAL? The buildup has been immense, but this was the actual last day of school here in Cobb. Big E had his final Zoom call with his class. His teacher put together a video of them with baby pictures mixed in with their current pictures and I stood over Big E's shoulder and watched and silently cried. I left to grab a tissue and returned to watch the whole 5th grade video with photos of them starting as babies in Kindergarten and now as 5th graders. Again, I stood over Big E's shoulder and silently cried. He turned to look at me. I tried to play it cool. YOU CAN LEAVE NOW. Normally that would have hurt my feelings, but I'm so raw from everything, that I just numbly walked away to clean up
I opened my eyes and had a moment that I thought I had overslept. That one second of panic that pumps your adrenaline so hard, you could flip a car. The sunlight that was beginning to creep into our bedroom had fooled me. Moments later, Little E, the schedule sergeant, bounded in to inform me we had to get up and go on our morning walk. Today I was a little more enthusiastic as I craved the fresh air. I threw on my quarantine uniform, leggings and a sweatshirt and met Little E in the hall. He had put on his full camouflage outfit, vest and sweatpants, and I had put on my camouflage sweatshirt. We perfectly coordinated, but didn't match, like early 2000s Destiny's child, but without the singing talent. We are the Jewish Duck Dynasty After our walk, the teachers' emails came flooding in with their real assignments. Phew. Tangible work. I was getting worried that I'd have two homeschool dropouts. I set them up at the kitchen island to work and that las