By the time we repaired to the outdoor pool midmorning, the kids were ready to try new things. Archer continued what he called "pacing practice," walking to different depths and then getting out. His sense of accomplishment even made him receptive to other kinds of "practice" -- sitting practice (sitting on the bottom of the pool in shallow water), floating practice (sticking his toes up above the water surface), even a little bit of swimming practice (kicking his legs behind him).
I gently pushed Cady Gray to try some floating and swimming, and almost came to regret it -- she refused to stop, meaning that I had to support her in each position. Even when I guided her to where the water was only inches deep, she wouldn't stop kicking her legs and padding her arms. I showed her how to dip her mouth in the water and blow bubbles, and by the time we broke for lunch, she was insisting on doing this while swimming. I got a hint of her independence as we practiced her jumping from the side of the pool into my arms -- she said a couple of times, "Don't catch me jumping. I want to do it myself."
I even got in some knitting-by-the-pool-with-fruity-drink time during the kids' naps. At bedtime Mom and Dad kindly stayed with the kids while we scooted down to the waterpark to ride the thrill rides, bruise the everliving heck out of my coccyx on the thrilliest of said thrill rides, and nurse our wounds in the hot tub. Great Wolf Lodge, you've earned your keep today.
Tomorrow we're going to Jamestown in the morning for a stab at shoving some history down the throats of the seven sensation-happy children in our party. And then no doubt we'll be back at the waterpark one last time before our last night in the bunk beds that Archer and Cady Gray carefully swap between naptime and bedtime to ensure a just distribution of the top bunk.