My siblings and I were all born in June, so one year my parents decided to throw us a pool party at the local motel. We rented a room and the next day, with the blessing and help of some of the staff, my parents set up a ton of balloons, pool toys and floating devices for us kids. I was turning seven, my brother six and our sister three.
Our parents invited our cousins and the children of the people around us to come celebrate and have cake. One great thing about my siblings and I was that we were easily entertained and satisfied by whatever our parents did for us. Rarely were we brats (I say that from my own memory. My parents will probably roll their eyes at this).
The downside was all three of us were extremely hyper and curious to the point where I don't recall us going one day without causing some kind of mischief. So with M&M cookies in our tummies and kool-aid adrenaline coursing through our veins, it was time to mark our new year with the first of many new shenanigans.
"Don't run around the pool!" My mom hollered at me for probably the fifth time that day.
I slowed down while everyone hurried on ahead. They weren't really running, but I had to if I wanted to keep up. The dangers of slipping meant more for someone with brittle bones and even though I knew it, at the moment I was willing to take the risk in order to participate in a water-balloon fight.
"Come sit down for a bit, you need to drink some water," my mom tried not sound scolding, but I knew it was a time out.
"I wanna play water-balloons!" I whined, but made my way over to my wheelchair. I climbed in and my mom handed me a bottle of water. I guzzled some of it down. "Okay, now can I go back?"
"Just give it a few," my mom said.
A couple of minutes later, my brother came over to the tables to get some water.
"I saved you a water-balloon," he said, handing it to me, "go ahead and throw it at me." He stood back.
I threw it as hard as I could, but my toss was weak. The balloon hit my brother in the stomach and fell to the ground, but still didn't break. He let me throw it again, this time I threw it hard at the ground. I was delighted with the plopping splat the balloon made upon impact as water splashed on the cement.
"Daddy, can I go play?" I asked, grateful my mom went inside to get the candles.
"Sure kiddo, but don't run," my dad said.
"I can push you in your wheelchair," my brother offered and started moving me toward the other side of the pool.
"Stay away from the edge," my dad warned.
"Got it daddy," we both yelled.
My brother parked my Wheelchair by the lounge chairs where some of our new friends were. My older cousin had our little sister in the pool with her arm floaties.
"I wanna build a raft for all of us to fit on, but we need to test it with something heavy, so I was thinking we could use your wheelchair," my brother laid out his idea.
"What are you going to make a raft with?" I asked.
My brother gestured to a stack of six pool lounge body floats and produced a roll of scotch tape our parents used to tape balloons everywhere.
My seven year old logic told him, "This is the best idea ever!"
We decided only two floats were needed to test the wheelchair and set to work taping the floats together as best we could. When we were done, my brother and a friend carefully placed the raft in the pool with the tapped side up (so water wouldn't loosen the sticky part). Then my brother got in and held the raft steady while our friend tried to roll the wheelchair onto it.
Immediately the raft began to come apart and the wheelchair started to sink. My brother got under and tried to push it back up on the ledge, while our friend struggled to pull it out of the water, but he was losing grip fast.
"Daddy!" I screamed.
Faster than I could blink, our dad was there pulling the half sunk wheelchair out of the pool and onto the curb. After making sure we were all okay, our dad announced pool time was over and we made our way to the table for birthday cake and presents.
"My seat is wet," I complained. I hopped up so my dad could place a folded towel for me to sit on.
"Now you know you're wheelchair isn't a boat," he said.
"No, it was trying to be a raft," I corrected, satisfied with learning something new.
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