Turtles

A few weeks ago, Edith had a swimming test because her swim teacher felt she was ready to move up to the next level. Unfortunately she did not pass, because she continued to be hesitant to knock down the foam turtles on the edge of the pool.

“She’s doing really well,” her swimming teacher reassured us. “She just needs to work on those turtles.”

Well, I don’t know what brought it out in her, but today Edith arrived at the pool on a mission. As we waited for the previous class to wrap up, she squirmed in my lap and swam in the air, and once we hit the water, she had only one target, sighted between her squinted eyes: turtles. She swam to them like a woman possessed and punched every single one flat onto its back with a vengeance. The turtles didn’t see it coming. She then proceeded to do the same thing every time, as the rest of us watched in awe.

“I came to the pool today to do two things,” she hissed at the turtles. “Drink pool water and punch turtles. And I’m being thwarted with the pool water.”

I am assured that if she flattens the turtles with as much fury next Sunday, she will advance to Swimboree.

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