Dinghy Story #1

The first time my daughter, son, and I went on my parent's boat on the west coast of Canada, my daughter must have been about three or four years old and my son seven or eight. It was the summer after my mother had completed her radiation therapy. We were conscientious about giving my mother as much Quiet Time as possible, which was not always easy considering the ages of the children.





One afternoon, after we had anchored for the night, my father tied the dinghy with a long line to the boat and gave the children permission to row around in the dingy. The moment the children set off, we adults went back into the main cabin and settled down into our long familiar routines: my father poured himself a drink and started to work on his laptop: I made a cup of tea and settled down to a good heart-to-heart talk with my mother.

We were so intent in our preoccupations that we did not hear the screams coming from outside. Even though it took us a while for the childrens cries of distress to reach our consciousness, the moment they did, we were out of the cabin and running to the stern of the boat in milliseconds. There we saw my daughter in the water, valiantly holding on to the side of the dinghy, while her brother desperately tried to get her back into the dinghy. (Note: they both had life vests on).

I did a Baryshnikov leap from the boat into the dingy, scooped my daughter up on the way over and pulled the dinghy closer to the boat before anyone could say boo. My mother immediately took my daughter down to the aft cabin for a hot shower (the Pacific Ocean is cold!). My father comforted my son. I went and got my daughter a set of dry cuddly clothes.

Five minutes after the incident, my father was back on his computer, the children were sitting in the main cabin watching their allotted hour of cartoons (a wonderful collection of Mickey Mouse), and my mother and I were discussing what we were going to make for dinner.

My daughter was allotted extra Brownie Points because she was the first one in the family that summer, including the older grandchildren, who had braved the cold Pacific waters. Albeit involuntarily.