Thursday, May 28, 2009

Call Me Morbid

When we were in Marinduque, SIL inflated so many stuff, one of them being the beach ball above. Now, Yakee loves balls. So he insisted on playing with this one. Pappie wasn't keen because he knew the waves could carry it away from us. True enough, that was what happened with this ball.

Hubs did try going after it. I watched him, concerned, thinking of that old, old movie where Nestor Padilla was drowned playing with JP de Guzman (which made Nida Blanca return JP to the orphanage). I was so scared that a current might suddenly spell distater for my husband and I wondered, while clutching our son, if i'd hate Yakee if anything happened to his father. Hehe.

Morbid, yes? But accidents happen all the time. Look at Mike Tyson's kid, who would have taught a child can get his head/neck caught in a treadmill's cord? So I was morbid. And thankful that nothing untoward happened.

Locals rowed a boat to fetch the beach ball for their own.

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