My Mother’s Day present this year was to take the boys to the lake, rent a boat and try (again) to teach them to water ski. (No, I am not uber-hip mom who teaches her young boys to wake board. I’m an old school, two-skis-and-a-rope, kind of gal.)
So we rented a boat off the internet site unseen.
While we were waiting at the dock a boat from about 1991 pulled up on a trailer. Scott and I both awkwardly looked the other way. . . hoping. . . and praying this wasn’t our rental. Seconds later Scott’s phone rings, “We’re here!”. Oh boy.
We sputtered out of the marina and across the lake, waving up to all the fun people on their fancy ski boats. We circled through the cove where all the party people had connected their yachts and somehow synced their radio stations to play loudly.
And we waved proudly …