I took my children swimming outside yesterday, for the first time this summer. While my poor wife worked, I took the kids to a little swimming hole we like to frequent in the hills above Camden, Maine. I can’t tell you where it is, unless you want to come with me sometime, or I’d have to kill you. Suffice to say, it has a unique dress code. (I can see Muddy Waters wagging his finger at me, reminding me that “if you’ve got something good, keep it in your pocket.” Sorry, Muddy.) With the sun glinting through the clouds, we drove out to our little idyll. I put the life jackets on the kiddies, and we went for a dip. The water was not as warm as it could have been, but children never seem to notice the cold. I swam with them for a few minutes, then climbed onto the bank and sat in the grass while the warm, late afternoon sun shone down upon us. My children played in the shallow, sandy end of the pond, making mud pies and splashing each other. Suddenly my daughter exclaimed, “Dad, this is the funnest, coldest time I’ve had all day!” I couldn’t have agreed more. I got eaten alive by bugs, and I had to use my stern dad voice to get them to come out of the water and dry off, but just for an hour, we inhabited our own little Eden here on earth, innocent before the Fall.