Saturday: Two kids, two parents, two hats, two jackets, four boots, all go "fishing". A good time is had by all. About five minutes after when we really should have gone home I look up from my magazine after hearing a peculiar thunk-sploosh, and since both kids are still on the pier nothing can be too wrong... except...
Oh no! Blue boot overboard! The Christmas boots! That were so hard to find! To replace the blue boots that William wore until they literally fell apart at the seams! Oh no!
It's down there, Daddy! Except it wasn't... it floated, barely, for ten tense minutes, drifting far under the wide pier, languishing behind the pilings, threatening to go down in water to deep and dark to retrieve it from. But then! the wind shifted, it came back toward the spot where it fell! Don grabs a fishing pole and snags the loop and as he's shouting for me to reach through the rail to grab it - glug glug, down it goes.
But this is a relief. Two feet of water, two feet below the pier, resting on the mucky bottom - rescue will be possible. This time the business end of the fishing pole gets involved...
And the soggy boot is safely back on dry land. Phew.
Here's the proud angler with his only catch of the day:
Everyone was very happy. It would have been a big bummer to lose a blue boot.