First day of swimmng lessons for Chippie.
Figured it was about time, as he was clearly attracted to water, had little fear of it, crawled in on a weekly basis fully clothed and … well, some water familiarity in more controlled circumstances was becoming a necessity.
I’d purchased myself some new bathers over the holidays; an experience in itself. I still don’ t understand why larger size bathers, say 14-16 still only cater for a A, or on a good day, B Cup. I have to purchase the larger sizes just to cater for my boobs, and even then they barely cover them. I go up much larger in size and I look like I’m wearinga mu-mu.
And that’s all aside from your sun deprived, white dimply legs being thrust at you from all angles, highlighted and now glowing thanks to the flourscent lights overhead.
Anyhoo, into the change rooms we go to don our bathers and listen to other mums range from sighing in exasperation to saying (to their 18 month old) “Please concentrate and focus on getting dressed” (yes, some people really say this to children of this age. And mean it!).
Suddenly, despite entering at the exact same point he enters on a weekly basis with his denim overalls on, Chippie is somewhat paranoid. I lure him in with a ball, and he clings to me in terror. We slowly make our way over to deeper water, then into the area the class will be held in.
He has now grabbed handfulls of cleavage spillage and belly (with his toes).
He proceeds to cry just prior to the class starting, until it’s conclusion, only breaking occasionally to glare at anyone who deigns to acknowledge him in some way or other.
Back to the change rooms where we skip the shower, as it is far too stressful, and I attempt to dress myself and 13 month old whilst he is still clinging to me and, by now, shivering. Perhaps was the wrong tact? Perhaps a stern talking to about focussing and dressing himself was in order?
And, perhaps next week, will completely forgo bather donning and see if he’ll cooperate fully clothed.