All signs pointed to a successful first swimming lesson. He had his shark shorts, his shark towel, and an early class with the same teacher that Abby has come to love.
But when the time came for my little water lover to put his toes in the pool, he made it very clear he had no intention of joining the rest of the kids. The creek in the backyard is one thing. A great big pool and no one but a stranger in a scuba suit to keep him company is quite another.
He wailed. He thrashed. He insisted he was not getting in.
His teacher didn't buy it. She explained that part of learning to swim is learning to get in the water. And with that, she took my very unhappy child from my arms and banished me to the viewing area so he wouldn't be able to bat those baby blues at me and expect a rescue from mom.
He made one feeble attempt at escape about halfway through the class by asking for a potty break. With instructions to bring him right back, the teacher let me take him to the bathroom. I bribed him with a cake pop to get him to leave, but eventually he found himself back in the water, and even enjoying it a little.
Later, there was little mention of his failed first attempts at swimming lessons when his dad asked how it went.
"I wore my shark shorts," he recounted. "And I blew bubbles in the water. But I didn't go down the slide because I was scared a little."
And then, apparently forgetting his fear, he asked, "When do I get to do swimming lessons again?"
Every week buddy. You'll be flying down that slide and splashing around that little pool in no time.
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