Here we go for round 3 of swimming lessons, inspired by Owen’s daycare’s Pool and Potluck party before Christmas, after which the boy would not stop asking when we were going to go swimming again…
He’s made it to the Sea Turtle class, still parented, which means I must don a bathing suit in January. Luckily, the pool is generally pretty warm, so it’s not the pool itself but the cold January wind on my wet braid that shocks me.
Owen is a sturdy fellow. One thing he has not yet figured out is how to float. He moves his arms and legs as though his life depended on it (which is good, considering that we’re in a swimming pool). If I let go of him, he sinks, though, regardless of how much he flails. The floating exercises are his least favourite activities, if only because he doesn’t seem to believe that one should ever be still in a swimming pool.
He’s getting braver, and doesn’t mind immersing his entire head, as long as someone is always holding onto some part of him. He still won’t jump off the side of the pool without holding onto a parent’s fingers. That’s OK. I don’t mind.