Saturday, August 16, 2014

Little swimmer

SWIMMING LESSONS ARE OVER and phew. Because we have been wearing out the road between here and the pool, a 3K round trip, on foot, twice a day. My flip-flops are like slivers. We'd get there for lessons at 9 (not, as I thought the first day, 9:30 - there I am thinking I'm five minutes early only that class looks like little kids and Ashley, the teacher, let me slip Eleanor in for the last five minutes and then I'm like, There. That is a swimming lesson) and then I'd feed her lunch in the stroller at 10 in the morning

and then put her down for a nap at 10:30 because she had to be up again at 12:30 to have a snack and head back to the pool for her second lesson. IT WAS LABORIOUS.

Worth it, though, because Eleanor was just cranked to eleven the entire time. Whenever Ashley was like, Now we are doing leg kicks! Eleanor was all, I CAN DO IT I WILL DO IT MYYYYY TURN TO DO IT. I will do it ten times.

And it was hard work for me. I was on edge for the entirety of the first few lessons because look how deep that water is.

And look how little my little one amidst all those bigs.

The class ran from 2- to 5-year-olds and six children of that size is too many for one teacher, who seemed exhausted (end of the summer, and all) and who spent most of her time trying to corral children, and make sure no one drowned, so she didn't have a lot of energy to devote to actually teaching. Eleanor got a lot of unexpected water up the nose before she figured out how to blow out on the way down.

A few lessons in, she woke up from her nap crying, I can't swim, I can't swim. Oh no, I thought. She hates this. But as soon as we came within sight of the building she cried, I CAN SEE MY SWIMMING LESSONS HOORAY.

And she did so many things. She wore a life jacket, laughing with delight and terror. She floated on a pool noodle. She sang Tiny Tim like a thousand times. She put her whole head underwater.

I mean, usually without the bucket on it. How are you even still alive, Eleanor. After her afternoon lesson on Friday we walked down to the bus for ice cream, because little sea otters deserve it.

If you would like to watch more than three minutes of shoddy footage, I am always willing to oblige.


blackbird said...

THAT is the only way to get out of a pool.
I loved when she put her head under.

Amy said...

I love it when the mom remembers that she is smarter than the toddler: "There. That is a swimming lesson!"

Reminds me of my friend who once had to pull her three-year old out of a preschool that he loved, mid-year. (She couldn't afford it anymore and it was WAYYY to hard to get him there and back with the other little kids she had at home.)

I felt terrible for him, but she said he was fine with it. Turns out she just told him "Preschool is over." He was none the wiser. How would he know the other kids were still going?