As an ironclad policy, we don't "cuss" around the kids in our house.  But when we do cuss around the kids in our house, we usually say something with a little more impact than "dammit."  (That's why we don't cuss around the kids in our house as an ironclad policy.)  And that, Gentle Browsers, is the real mystery in this little chestnut.

It seemed like such a healthy, wholesome idea to sponsor the Unity youth on a canoe trip on Town Lake.  Yes, there were those bothersome little foreshadowings, like the fact that it was just over 200 degrees outside, and the notion that anything involving Kathy, a canoe, and water was sure to involve "an incident."  Yes, that much, we should have noted.  But what none could foresee was that an extremely energetic young man, who shall remain nameless, would "partner" with Kathy and Kristin in the canoe.  And that this delightful young man would confuse a leisurely paddle on the lake with a military campaign to conquer all of Canoedom for the Crown -- and by Any Force Necessary. 

It started out peacefully enough, with Team Kathy -- Kathy, Kristin, and the gallant young soon-to-be-warrior -- tipping Canoe #12 over within ten seconds of it being put in the water.  But within minutes, this peaceful little vessel was transformed into a warship of moss destruction, the anvil and hammer of aqua-battle, racing menacingly toward both the Unexpecting and the Suddenly Yet Abruptly Horrified.  As Kathy and Kristin looked on, Captain Chaos cackled with glee as he manaically paddled their little ship to "ramming speed" and straight into their frightened prey.  Canoe #12 rocked precariously from side to side during these attacks, but amazingly, miraculously, never tipped over into the tortured waters. 

Watching themselves slammed into one canoe after the other, Kathy was overcome by the horror of it all.  She started laughing uncontrollably -- a strained, panicked sort of laugh, all the while gurgling out a few choked words… "Just… just… just stro-… jusssssst stroke…jussss!"  If only she could command the young man to just stroke, simply paddle, and nothing else!  Struggling, she tried in vain to give the order, but her pleas were lost in the din of splashes, screams, and collisions.  "Jusssssst!" she croaked, a final time, and all hope seemed lost.  But it was at this moment, that Kristin, our dear little six year old Kristin, so strong in life, so bold in spirit, and so commanding of mind, having remained silent except for her own bemused evil giggles (probably completely amused at her mother's plight), finally exhausted, having had all she could stands and unable to stands no more… it was Kristin who took command of the situation, turning to address the offender, thundering:  "JUST *STROKE*, DAMMIT!!!!!"

And where she got *THAT* colorfulism is the true mystery.