Those of you who don’t know August personally haven’t had access to the delightful odyssey that has been his long, slow, fumbling, and still-far-from-complete journey into the English language. His comprehension is good. And so are his internal thought processes. He knows what he wants, grasps the vocabulary in an abstract sort of way, but pressed with the challenge of funneling those thoughts into sounds that are recognizable to other human beings, the poor boy is sorely lacking.

None of this matters when we go to the pool. When we go to the pool, the need for spoken English goes out the door and the only exchange that matters is between August and the surface of the water.

The boy likes to jump.

You might argue that it’s easy to be bold when your adversary is nine inches of water, but don’t tell that to August, who uses both body language and vocal barbarism to show that water who is boss.

Did I mention his enthusiasm for jumping in the water?

In addition to jumping from the side of the pool, he will occasionally jump from the end. Which is, as you know, far more difficult.

After completing his conquest, August likes to recover by double-fisting granola bars and seaweed, which is, as you know, the most intimidating snack.

Go ahead and tremble.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

All that jumping was on my mind when I took August in this morning for his 30-month checkup. The nurse ran through the battery of questions: Does he have 7-20 words? Can he play with other children? Can he jump in place?

“No,” I wanted to yell. “No he can not jump in place because he is too busy showing the pool who is boss.”

But I did not say this. I said yes, and we moved on to, “can he identify at least four colors”?

August was glum throughout the interview.

August was glum about getting measured.

And glum about getting weighed.

It was as if he understood the solemn family genetic responsibility of being incredibly small.

He clocked in at 3rd percentile for weight 5th percentile for height. And growing.

Alden noticed and did her best to effect an attitude makeover.

Her squeezes can be highly persuasive.

August’s newfound cheer trickled into the exam itself, in which August willingly opened his mouth very wide for the doctor. At which time the doctor saw what seemed to be a cavity on one of August’s molars.

Luckily, all three kids had dentist’s appointments later that afternoon.

It was August’s first trip. He had heard all about the dentist from his brother and sister (mostly rave reviews of the toys one receives upon successful completion of the teeth cleaning ordeal).

With Alden holding one hand and Kato the other, he prepared to face his latest adventure.

Alden showed him the ropes.

And, sensing that his eyes were a bit too sensitive for the harsh glare of the overhead lights, our hygienist gave him some cool shades.

I might even call them bitchin’.

While Kato sat for his cleaning, Alden and August looked on from the blue stool at the far end of the room. I have to hand it to the little guy. He didn’t flinch or protest once throughout the ordeal. On the contrary, he handled the situation with the steely-eyed resolve of a seasoned jumper.

August was so enthusiastic that he paid Dr. Brayton the ultimate compliment at the end of our visit.

Gone was the ruthless vanquisher of the baby pool. In his place, a loving, clean-toothed veteran of the dentist chair.

It was a big day for the little guy.

And many more to come.