I think I experienced my first bit of parental panic today. Melissa and I were swimming in the ocean and she got taken out by a wave. In the moment I was all, “holy shit my kid!” while watching her wash towards shore. I rushed to her, in hopes of helping her up… and maybe helping her back to the beach. Then she stood up, laughing, and said, “at least my bikini stayed on.”

I was in awe. If you saw her, six months pregnant, rocking a bikini, and fearing no wave, you prolly would have been too. Not only was she unhurt, she was thoroughly amused by the whole thing. She didn’t wade past her knees after that, but she’d already owned that moment so it didn’t matter much. Suffice to say, we got both smiles and stares from our fellow ocean enthusiasts.

Don’t panic! She fell on her bum and the kid is still right-side-in like half a day later. I can’t make any promises that there won’t be some embelishment when we tell Small Fry the story in a few years. I have a feeling it’ll be way more harrowing… like zombie land sharks, or something. Regardless of the details, it will always feature a woman that will undoubtedly teach our child to take chances.