One of the fondest memories my sister and I have of my grandparents house was their pool. We could spend hours upon hours running and jumping in the pool, making waves, and trying to see how many laps we could swim underwater without coming up for a breath (4 links was my record - but I think Uncle Norm may have done more as a kid). Grandpa’s pool was also located directly next to the barnyard fence, which meant we figured out early on how to use that fence as a sort of diving board.
The Boy is also a big fan of the water. On the return trip to MO, the Boy kept saying "play with Papa, go throw rocks and hold hands." He was referring to the fact that he and his Papa hold hands when they walk down to the creek to throw rocks in the water. Papa also has a pool, specifically, a pool that Papa fills up each day with icy cold tap water. This pool isn’t nearly as big as the pool we enjoyed at our grandparents, but the Boy doesn’t care one bit. The Boy is interested in all aspects of pool maintenance, from the filling of the pool all the way to draining the pool into the vegetable garden. It doesn’t matter one bit to the Boy or his cousins that the pool is only a foot deep or freezing cold, because once it is full, they all get in and splash each other for about 10 seconds, until they remember that an adult is close by and splashing Nana or Papa is way more fun.