So John & Shawna are on one raft. I have the other all to myself. (Compliments to the husband who won't come out and play with the other children.) After we've been out there for a while I decide to take a quick dip, cool off and flip sides. Laying on my stomach (trying my best not to mentally picture the view from the shore or the neighboring raft,) I am suddenly wrapped like a taco, albeit a taco mas grande, and tipped over. Then if you can even begin or desire to imagine the wrestling that takes place to somewhat lift me and throw me under. Twice. A bather and not a swimmer I get water up my nose. Twice. And he thinks he is just so very funny. He leaves me digging the sand out of my pants and proudly repositions himself on their raft as he proclaims: “Been planning that for five minutes.”

I stand and reposition myself on my raft at the same time he discovers theirs is drifting away from our shared anchor and proclaim as his perfect smile widens with the realization of what was happening: “Been planning that for ten.”

Don’t even want to think about the distance and volume my following laughter carried over the lake. But I can still see those white teeth against his tanned face wading back toward me pulling Shawna along behind him to re-tie their rope that I had undone while I was taking that dip. I am the best. And he knows it.