Swimming

Emily got Jack into swimming classes. Starfish Swim School, in Aurora. He got this little T-shirt that says Starfish Swim School on it, and these colorful little swim trunks, and he and Emily go every Saturday morning. The class was called "Tiny Bubbles," because all the attendees were roughly Jack's age - about 12-15 months. I had been unable to go the first month since it was at the same time as Charlie's dog obedience class (Charlie did not get a T-shirt or swim trunks, but upon graduation last week he did get his picture taken wearing a sporty mortarboard, and he seemed happy enough about it). That's over now, so I got to go to swim class with Jack and Emily.

I have my own memories of swimming lessons, although of course I wasn't as young as Jack was. They were at a neighborhood home in Vermont, held pretty early in the morning, and being as it was early morning in Vermont, it was freezing. I remember doing the "steamboat," and learning to tread water, and other things, eventually, but mostly I remember it was freezing.

Anyway, it's been 80 in Denver the past couple of days, and although it was cooler today, the swim class was inside, and the pool area was heated. One difference that Jack faced was whereas I was one of 3-4 kids getting lessons in Vermont, there were several different classes going on, dozens of kids, and of course family members crowded around the pool, all of them snapping tons of pictures with their digital camera. Oh wait, that was just me.

But Jack, to his credit, seemed okay with the crowds, and the pool itself, initially because he was in his Mommy's arms, occasionally because he saw his Daddy waving madly and grinning like an idiot, and later because he had a toy to play with, a little plastic submarine, that was more fascinating to him than any fear of the water or the noise or the splashing or that guy with the digital camera almost taking a header off the edge of the pool.

The half-hour class featured Jack being held by the hands while he lay on his stomach and kicked with his feet, being lifted into the air like a ball, and placed into a yoke-like floating device so he could float around without being held. At one point Emily brought him to the side of the pool so he could touch it with his hands, and "walk" along it. And frequently he enjoyed playing with toys -- submarine, squeezy fish, some kind of ball. Much better bath toys than I've been able to find for him, as noted in an earlier entry, but regrettably the gift shop was sold out of the submarine.

The cool thing to the whole experience was just to sit back (and lean forward with the camera, so sue me) and watch Jack and his Mommy in the pool. His Mommy looked happy. Jack looked unafraid.

What more could a Daddy want?