Little fish in a big pond

It struck me the other day that in a few short months, our family will be poolside again. And whereas last year my kids were content to splash around in the kiddie pool while mommy sat around grumbling about how miserable it was to be pregnant in June, this year will look a bit different.

This year, there will be four of them. All of them will be mobile. Two of them are confident swimmers, and will not tolerate the kiddie pool. One of them may or may not be able to walk yet, and will likely spend his time bobbing around in an infant float within arm's reach. That leaves my third born standing in the gap between the fun he could have in the kiddie pool and the fun his siblings will be having in the big pool.

So I snagged the spot vacated by his older brother and put Jacob in swimming lessons, just like the big kids. He kicks, he splashes, he crab walks along the edge with his hands, he blows bubbles, he goes down the slide, and he jumps in, feet first, with a great big smile on his face.

After each lesson, I ask him what he did, and if he had fun.

"Bow bubble! Plash! Eyes in! Fwim! Fwim! Go down fwide!" he'll tell me, arms flapping in a frantic attempt to help me understand.

I think that's a yes.