“I don’t wanna swim in that lake. There might be sharks.”
When we were young, my parents took us to a company owned cabin on Pickwick Lake several times each year. The best thing about the trip was the nickel slot machine and the roll of quarters each child was given to use or keep. The worst part was swimming in that deep, dark, cold water. One year when we were there, everyone was talking about a small child who had fallen off a boat, but whose body was never found. After that story, I became increasingly convinced that I was going to brush against a body trapped in the forest under the lake. Eventually I quit swimming there. I think Amy and I will just swim in clear water.