Tadpole

At eleven months old Sammy has a new word. “Water!” she exclaimed when I put her down on the beach. “Water!"  Not minding the rocky sand under her feet she walked in up to her elbows, holding onto my hands for balance. “Water!” it sounds like "Waga" coming from her. 

“What about clams?” Matthew asked. 

“Clams live in salt water,” I assured him the same way I had with sharks and sea turtles. Neither of us mentioned his newest fear of late which is sea stars. According to him they eat baby sea turtles.  He reminds me of this “fact” every time he uses the bathroom because we have a dried sea star in a frame on the wall. 

This was our first trip to the lake this summer. We swam and splashed for nearly an hour and a half. “Look at me!” Matthew called every time he bravely went in the water past his waist. 

“You  guys are my two little fish,” I told them. 

“Can we be your Cheetahs instead?” he asked me.  

“Sure, ,” I humor him.

A few minutes later he must still be thinking it over because he says, “Actually I am your frog. And  Sammy is your tadpole.” 

I like that.