I dug my toes into the soft white sand and tried to relax as Merritt, my son, tied his surfboard leash onto his ankle. Merritt was eight and a natural born swimmer. His Dad taught him to surf, and Merritt was ready to surf alone. We always signaled each other from the beach. Thumbs-up meant, I'm happy, and patting one hand on his head meant, help! 

Merritt paddled out through the crashing waves, and joined the surfers. For an hour, I watched as he surfed to shore, gave me a thumbs-up, and then paddled out again. At last, I could relax, Merritt was happy, and I was enjoying the salt air, cool sand, and the view.

Just then, Rusty, who was Merritt's age, ran by with his surfboard and attempted to paddle out. I noticed he didn't have a leash and I worried. Rusty took several tumbles in the surf and lost his surfboard. I panicked, then looked out, and saw Merritt waving a thumbs-up signal waiting for my thumbs-up confirmation. I patted my head instead and Merritt realized something was wrong. He paddled in, saw Rusty, and rescued him from the surf and me from my panic.