Saturday, in the fog, ^J^ took the kids fishing. They got all suited up in appropriate attire and headed to the lake behind our house. I was overly excited about the cool morning temps and decided to surprise them with hot chocolate when they returned. About 20 minutes later, while I was in the kitchen figuring out how to make hot chocolate with no cocoa (FYI: chocolate chips work in a pinch), I heard them coming up the street preceded by (H)'s cries. I met them on the front porch wondering why they were coming home so soon and found an unhappy, wet, shirtless baby boy. He had fallen in head first. He was totally fine, had held his breath and everything, and ^J^ pulled him out by the seat of his pants. He wasn't crying because he had fallen in, he was crying because he had to stop catching "bish". Poor guy. His Gramps and Grandpa John know how he feels...they don't want to stop "bish"ing either.
The hot chocolate made it all better though. He chugged his while *A* savored every drop, just like her Mommy.