We are hanging out at Lake Chelan for a week of vacation! This will become a familiar place as you grow up because your Grandma Vicki and Poppa Steve bought land to build a house here. Until the house is built, we stay at their time share condo at Lake Chelan Shores overlooking a pool and the lake. You are very lucky!
All of your spring and summer swim lessons have paid off as you can swim confidently in the pool and lake. You practice swimming in the pool without a life jacket and spend a lot more time underwater, enticed by what you can see with goggles on. Yesterday we were out on Poppa Steve’s boat on the lake and you didn’t hesitate to jump into to the not-too-cold water with us. As you swam with goggles, you popped up to tell us what you could see in the clear water: the occasional passing fish.
Lake Chelan is truly a world-class lake. I’ve seen a lot of them and Lake Como in Italy only has the upper hand on food. Like in Italy, the local wine here is truly good and you’ll come to appreciate that in 14 years.
In between the pool, lake and wineries, you and Matteo keep us busy and entertained. In the condo you like to build structures out of Magna-Tiles that Matteo eventually knocks over. You made up a new game called “Magic.” You move your hands in a circular motion like Elsa from “Frozen” and make imaginary objects. When you’re out of magic, you sometimes complain that your stomach hurts because your “baby is kicking.” You ask us to hold your stomach while you move it in and out quickly, trying to simulate baby kicks but looking a lot more like a belly dancer.
With all of the excitement and swimming in the day, you and Matteo have been napping and therefore making for late nights. If we see no sign of sleep by 9 p.m., your Mom and I throw you two in the car and start driving a direction until one of you falls asleep — usually Matteo. As we climb the hills, we listen to the classic hits radio station quietly. The lake is lit by the moon like a flashlight and the calm sets in. We’ll do it all again tomorrow.
Love, Dad