Went to swimming lessons.
Toddler improved. It seems vomit was a one off.
Also, the logistics of taking said toddler to his big brother’s swimming lessons were easier than the logistics of getting said big brothers home and them missing lessons.
So we went. I had a moment of exalted relief when I thought he decided to forgo hopping in the pool this afternoon. I was sadly mistaken.
In we hop. He has developed an aversion to cooperating in the water, and, it seems, to doing any of the things he’s been doing in lessons (when he wants to) for a while now, crying in terror at the thought of blowing bubbles. Which is really annoying.
He hasn’t, however, developed an aversion to cheerfully ramming me with a kickboard in the neck. Needless to say, I had developed said aversion and took the kickboard away and tossed it over my shoulder. Which set hiim off on a little tanty. Ok, some of that was to see if he’d actually get his face under water, because he usually does a Flop-type Tantrum; those ones where they flop on the ground, screaming, before launching into kicking and screaming. You know the ones?
He starts to, but then realises were he is and instead wanders off, screaming, to get his kickboard. Then hit me with it.
Hurrah! This is the signal for me to say “NO”, grab his arm and drag him out of the water to get changed.
We can go home early!
I’m delighted! And we are just about dressed when the other two finish their lessons, and I manage to get them into the change rooms and dressed and all organised and home in time for Wine O’Clock. Before Wine O’Clock even. This is a record.
Delight ended soon after, once dinner was cooked and consumed and 5.42pm felt much more like 10.57pm and I was confronted by the fact that getting home early meant that the evening dragged on longer.