Once again, our Thurday afternoon plan for Grumpy to take the kids swimming and leave me home, alone to work have gone out the door.
Course, I never find these things out till I’m all sorted and organised and have my day planned. Once that part of the list is complete, Grumpy will ring and say “I’ve been asked to work tonight and I said yes.”
I have contemplated just ad libbing my whole day and planning nothing, because then he wouldn’t get the request and everything would go as planned. Except that I wouldn’t have a plan for it to go to. Or something.
Anyway, its up to me again to remember the swim bags, check the goggles are in them (and not the toilet where I found a set the other week, but shhh, don’t tell the kids), ensure Chippie’s nappy bag is appropriately stocked (food, nappies, wipes, more food, bibs, spoons and still more food). Then remember to put it all in the car before I leave to pick them up from school and take them to lessons.
For the last few weeks, Chippie has been crawling across to the side of the pool and putting his hand in. Once the lessons start, we move away, he plays and has no more interest in the pool. Or has no more interest since I finally got Monkey Boy to stop calling him over whilst he is supposed to be doing his lesson!
Not this afternoon, however. He kept going back and going back and going back.
To be on the safer side, I take him over to the small pool, which has a beach entry; very shallow, so if he does slip whilst splashing from the side, he’ll probably just bang his nose, and not sick to the bottom and freak me out. He crawls to the edge, and pats his hand on the water. Nice.
His pants are sopping wet from the big pool, so I strip them off him while he’s splashing, and just as his feet come put, he takes off into the pool. Great.
I have to step in, shoes and all, to grab his leg and hoist him back.
Entertaining every other parent there at the time.
He promptly gives me a filthy look, attempts to crawl off again, is hauled back by the foot, and lays down in the water, in what remains of his clothes. And stays there.
I give up and leave him there until he’s had enough.
Fortunatley, this week I not only brought his nappy bag, but it actually has a change of clothes in it. Only, it’s out in the car, because every other week I’ve been forced to lug three bags, a baby and two pair of shoes around the pool at the conclusion of the lessons.
Hmm. This means lugging soaking wet baby out into freezing outside to the car to get nappy bag.
Or …. I dump him on the counter on the way out and say to the manager “Book him in for swim lessons and I’ll be back in a minute.”
There, much easier.
I decide to only half dress him … um, because the nappy bag wasn’t as stocked with suitable clothing as I thought, and still have to contend with the concerned looks of passers by as we return to the car after lessons.