Heroes wear pigtails.

Tuesday was a beautiful day. Sunny, 80 degrees, a slight breeze. The kids awoke from their afternoon nap and donned thier swimsuits, eager to embark upon our daily adventure at our neighborhood pool (hey, with 4 kids, anything qualifies as an adventure!).

Ethan has really come a long way at the pool this summer. No more than a month ago he was satisfied hopping around in the 1 foot of water in the "baby pool". Then, one day he decided that it was time to graduate to the big pool and he jumped into learning to swim, literally! Now he leaps, dives, belly flops, and flips, uninhibited by fear or flotation devices.

When you're two and a half, five seems awfully big and strong and, as any good little brother should be, Asa is on a mission to prove that anything Ethan can do, he can do....better.

The pool was chilly that day, as it often is here on top of a monutain in the arctic (ok, ok, it's not that bad, but I do prefer my pool water somewhere in the 90's), and Ethan and Asa lasted for just a few minutes in the water before deciding that it was snack time (Julia was the only one with enough sense to stay out of the pool completely and had already begun munching on her Goldfish and Pirate's Booty). I wrapped them up in towels, plopped thier shivering little bodies down on deck chairs, and served them snacks. Astrid, not to be left out of the feast, began grunting and whining in the stroller so I took her out to nurse her. A friend of mine came over to say hi to the kids and talk for a few minutes. Asa handed me his snack and said that he was ready to get back into the pool. When he got out the first time he had removed the life vest that we make him wear anytime he's in the big pool without one of us in there with him. I asked him if he wanted it back on and he said no, so I instructed him to just stay on the pool steps. My chair was stationed right in front of the steps and a few feet from the lifeguard so I felt pretty confident that everything would be fine. As Asa entered the big pool, Ethan continued to concentrate on his Cheez-its and Julia slid off her chair to stand beside me and play with Astrid, who was finished drinking her milk and had moved on to grinning at passers-by. I turned back to the conversation with my friend.

Suddenly, I was assaulted by a little fist beating my knee and Julia shouting, "Mommy, Mommy, look at Asa!" Now, there are times that I might have turned to her and said , "Julia, I'm talking and it's rude to interrupt, please wait a minute". But, I guess the alarm in her voice startled me into obedience and I looked ahead of me. Time seemed to stand still as I spotted Asa in the water, about 3 feet away from the steps, in the middle of a group of splashing children, completely submerged and struggling. It was as if I was frozen there in my chair as his underwater movements began to slow and his flailing arms seemed to relax, succumbing to the weight of the water. I shouted "ASA! ASA!" The lifeguard heard me scream and by the time I was able to get my body into motion he was also jumping up out of his seat. I ran down the pool steps, fully clothed, still holding Astrid, who yelped at the shock of the cold water on her legs and torso. The lifeguard and I reached Asa at the same time and we pulled him up out of the water together. He gulped in the air, his little body shuddering with fear and relief, and dropped his head against my shoulder. I stood in the pool, with Astrid whimpering and the entire population of the pool standing still and quiet, staring at us. I carried my two little ones out, handed Astrid over to my friend, wrapped Asa in a towel and sat down to just hold him. His face was pale and his lips were white, but he was breathing and responsive. I praised God out loud that my baby boy was alive and, realizing what could have happened had Julia not noticed that Asa was in trouble, I thanked Him for my little hero in pigtails.