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The vacations I take are quite different to The Mom’s. I either go home to visit, or sometimes I go further afield and venture into Europe, but rarely is the prospect of any new, sporty activity mentioned. At home, we do the same things we’ve always done, and on holiday with friends, the big new thing for me is living with strangers for a week and not going mental.

However, when The Mom told me of her recent escapades that not only involved getting in a boat, but then jumping out of it, swimming, and going back again, I must admit I was rather impressed.

The Mom is not known for feats of athletic prowess. For reasons unknown to any of us, Crazy D, L’il Sis and I are, in some ways, quite athletic. Crazy D, obviously, is an athletic chap, tearing around North America on a bike, crunching through gorgeous landscape, no matter the season or weather. Then there’s his new home gym which by all accounts is quite impressive. L’il Sis and I are not in that realm of athleticism, but you know, we do yoga, and I swim compulsively. Considering that The Mom can’t turn a somersault nor ride a bike, I feel this is rather an accomplishment.

But not quite as much as the one that she managed to enact while recently on holiday. The first thing to note is that she does not care for boats much. It might just be big cruise liners, but I feel she told me once that she’s terrified of drowning at sea. Why we were dragged to the beach so often as children is another matter, but it does go some way to explaining why she was so adamant that we were all good swimmers.

So getting on the boat, that was a big step, but then the idea that she would jump out of the boat. It beggars belief. First of all, The Mom does not jump into anything. At our pool in the summer she delicately eases herself into the waters, and I imagine were she to slip into the water of a lake from, say, a deck, it would be just that – a gentle slipping in, not a jump. I can hardly picture her jumping in – this would ruin the full hair and makeup efforts for one, and two she hates water in her face, ears, and nose. I’ve always tried to get her to swim with her head in, but she resists, lurking through the pool like the Loch Ness Monster.

Anyhow, so she jumped in, and cautious person that she is, she’d opted in the first place to put on a lifejacket which is good sense. She is a good swimmer in a way, but there is a difference between the pool and the sea. I was impressed to note that she’s taken all precautions.

However, next up was a swim through a cave which opened up onto some kind of a pristine beach. Now, I realise that The Mom’s motivation here was to see birds, and if you tell her she can see birds but has to do a scary thing first, we all know she’ll do it. Had we learned this earlier in life, I’m sure things would’ve been different – we’d have found some way to get away with even more had we known to mention birds. Anyhow, so I don’t know what distance they had to cover but it wasn’t that close.

Now, I may mock The Mom’s technique but I will give her this: she can cover a lot of ground with the Loch Ness monster stroke. She’s been known to clear 2km in our pool in the summer. But I was impressed to see that she tested herself in the open waters, as they say.

All this goes to prove what I’ve been hypothesizing for some time, which is that The Mom, about twenty years ago, re-entered her teenage years. I suspect that with her parents being so overprotective, and then watching us carry on the way we did, she felt she was missing out. So now she’s working to rectify that. To which I say why not?

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