Two-year-old Clive is like a human Divining Rod. He has a radar that picks up any water within a certain radius. It’s his element of choice. Just like Ephraim automatically heads for any available dirt for digging, Clive longs to be near water. Or in water, more specifically. Up to his neck, if possible–though he will settle for at least getting his hands wet.

Every store we visit that has a display of fountains, every home we visit that has a pool (whether we’re intending to swim or not), every creek we walk by or lake we drive over, it’s the same: “My Water? My Water? I have My Water please??”

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