She comes up gasping, sputtering and choking, bathwater spraying out of her mouth. I run to her with a towel, pulling her up by her slippery armpits, out of the tub. This is nothing new here. Despite our sternest insistence that she not put her face into the dirty bathwater, she repeats this activity somewhat relentlessly. Every time I read the warnings about small children drowning in practically, puddle-amounts of water, I recognize how this is actually possible.
However, tonight, she isn’t drowning (thank God) but merely trying to swim as fish do, including, apparently, aquatic respiration. Sigh. With her towel-toga wrapped tightly around her, I haul her dripping, to her room and begin the dry her off. Her green eyes, rimmed red from coughing.
What were you doing? I question her. You know you’re not supposed to do that, you CAN’T Breathe underwater.
Her brows furrow and she answers, with all seriousness, well how come sharks can breathe underwater?
Is she serious?