By the last day, he was wading in by himself up to his shoulders, kicking his legs and blowing bubbles. The weeks before that - he was terrified of the big, open water.
Grandpa finally convinced him to (timidly) get in one day, and once he started, he didn't stop. Around and around and around - into the water, over to the ladder, up onto the dock, across the beach, down the steps, and into Grandpa's arms. Again and again.
Not quite swimming, but he was so happy and so proud of himself.
One more time, Grandpa. Carry me, Grandpa!
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