little boy vs. river

Flash back to...oh let's say 1986 or so. The time of parachute pants, Pound Puppdies, G.I. Joes, Jenga, and Jaws. Trace would be about 3 years old. Him and his family went on a little trip to Shevelon Crossing in Northern Arizona. Shevelon Crossing has a creek that sometimes runs down the canyon. As they were hiking along the river bed Trace slipped into the river. Heather, being the most mature (cause I've met her brothers a time or two), jumped in after him and pulled him out. As Trace was drying off on the side of the creek, he said, "If dere were a shawrk in dere, I'd be dead."

I tell this story to tell another story. Last weekend we went on a little family trip up American Fork Canyon. We got out to take some pictures. This is what I got...

Trace and Brody on a rock in the river.

All by himself...close call. (should have been a parental clue or something.)

Oh so big...all by himself. By the way, I just need to mention that putting Brody out on the little rock in the river all by himself was NOT my idea.

Then right after that picture he lost his balance and before I knew it, he was in the river.

"If dere were a shawrk in dere, I'd be dead!"