Escape, Family Day, Ceatures from the Deep

We did um and ah about Family Day today.

There was the obligatory and inevitable resistance to the idea, and even that was half hearted.

I gave the alternative; Family Day or tidy up the house.

This appeared to induce comas in all three children, suddenly not only incapable of moving, but also rendered permanently horizontal.

We dragged them out anyway, and head back to Lerderderg Gorge. A place we visited a few weeks back and we has said, back then, that next time we’d do the full 8km circuit and be all prepared for doing it and stuff. Of course, by the time we got our shit together, and then Grumpy Pants got lost in the lovely little town of Bacchus Marsh, we had enough time to stuff our faces with chicken rolls for lunch, and go for a wander.

The littlest one had decided we were going swimming, so had packed his bathers. We threw in some for the other two, and Grumpy and I had a bit of to- and fro regarding the need for additioanl towels. He was adamant one was enough.

I felt we needed a few more. Even if they sat in the car for months, unused. I know there is a moment that will pop up, quite unexpectedly, where the towels will be needed. We, the two adultish ones, were being all sensible and stuff and determined it was going to be too cold for a swim, although we were more than happy for the little crazies to freeze themselves.

So, after getting lost, eating lunch, and collecting the swimming bag, we set off on the slightly longer than 1.5km walk to the dam in which the swim was planned.

The Littlest One was the bravest, and went in as far as his ankles before deciding it was too cold. Godzilla, the Middlest One, followed a while later. Finally, Monkey Boy entered the murky depths.

Hot from the, well, dry heat, and the walk, the watery mass was somewhat inviting.

All other walkers and water dwellers had departed, so I whipped off my shoes, socks and pants, and waded in. Graceful and elegant.

Until Grumpy, who never, ever, ever takes photos asked me to turn around so he could take a photo, I slipped on a rock and found myself fully submerged.

It was lovely.

Grumpy followed soon after, although he did keep his shorts on. This did not absolve him from the plethora of whale, Greenpeace and Creature Of The Deep comments from his smartarse offspring (who probably won’t be visisted by Santa this year if he keeps that shit up).

Once under, I removed my singlet top, wrung it out and handed it to Chippie with the request to spread it out over a rock so it could dry.

He proceeded to make his way out of the dam, on all fours, my top wrapped around his forepaw and smooshed into the muddy bottom (of the dam, not his bottom) and removing the slime from the submerged rocks.

I didn’t like my chances of it obtaining any sort of level of ‘dry’ anytime in the near future.

We swam, and frolicked, and Chippie and Godzilla started shivvering quite a lot and going a very pale shade blue, so we sent them out … where they fought over the

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