On our way home from Deary we stopped in Clarkston to go boating with my grandpa. He wanted take the kids tubing one last time before the season was over.
Unfortunately, if you can’t tell by looking, he really isn’t the kind of man you want driving the boat. Particularly if you’re the one being pulled on an inner tube behind it, as my sister would be happy to testify.
Obviously, this picture was taken before she knew better.
The littles were excited for their first trip on the boat. The big kids had the first turn.
Mister Chievous was ready to go. Grandpa wasn’t convinced. He doesn’t look quite fat enough to me either.
So Grandpa had Rezon’s mommy climb on with him. “But I don’t have a swim suit,” she insisted. Didn’t matter.
“You won’t get wet,” he promised. And she believed him.
Turns out this was one of the rare times Grandma wasn’t in the boat. And the tour boats were out making giant waves. And my grandpa’s nickname is “Dude.” (I mentioned that.) Fortunately Sarah is a very brave girl and kept her smile plastered to her face the whole time. Except that last wave where I swear Grandpa got the whole boat air born and Sarah came up spitting water with a look of incredulous terror. Didn’t get a picture of that, I think I was holding on.
And then not so much.
That’s why we have thumbs and daddies. Not to mention life jackets.
In any case I don’t think the children will forget going boating. Or, perhaps even more likely, ever go boating again. Sissies.
Passed out on the seven hour ride home, full of tacos and a substantial dose of the Snake River.