Water Baby

Aitch loves taking her bath. Loves. Loveslovesloves it. We have to spell out the word when we talk about it because once she hears the word, the speed alone that she takes off to the bathroom creates a wind-shear that virtually strips her of her clothes.

In fact, she enjoys her time in the tub so much, once it starts draining, she takes the washcloth, smoothes it flat on the tub floor and then lies (lays?) down on it while saying, “nigh-nigh”. Yes, my daughter might actually sleep in the tub if I let her.

That being said, I thought she would enjoy swim lessons so I signed both her and Doodicus up for lessons at the Y. We had our first last night.

She saw the swimsuit I got her and asked, “dwess? dwess?” and I was all, “yes, we are going to get you dressed” and we got all bundled up and headed out.

Once the classes started, I lost all track of anything Doodicus was doing (his class was at the same time) (Sparring Partner went to see his dad, so it was just the three of us), I found myself sitting on the side of the pool with a baby barnacle dressed in a pink, polka-dotted swimsuit attached to my ribs/chest/arm. I’m fairly certain that if she could have held onto me by sheer willpower, so freaked out by the pool and the screaming and the splashing going on.

Not only that, but the first thing the instructor did was come up and splashed a little water onto her and then took her out of my arms. Granted, she was doing one of those, “water the tree so it grows big and tall and then cut it down” (environmentally sound?) type of games, but still! My baby barnacle morphed into a baby octopus and suddenly she had twice as many limbs as I remember giving birth to. Undiscovered super powers?

After 15 minutes of torture, it was 15 minutes of play. By then, she was loosening up a bit and throwing a ball and then we’d “swim” after it. However, if the ball landed tooooo close to the instructor, the ball became as unappealing as a bloated squirrel that had fallen into a horse tank and couldn’t get out again and drown. Trust me. Not pretty. And a pitchfork can do waaay more harm than help if you’re not careful.

But once I’d fish the ball away and hand it back to Aitch, she was happy. Finally class was over and while I was toweling her off, I heard a lot of hollering from another instructor with a group of older kids. Then Doodicus was walking up to me, and I asked him what he was doing since his class wasn’t scheduled to be over for another 15 minutes. “Some kid threw up in the pool.”

Seriously?! What the hell is the Y doing to these kids that they are always puking in the pool?

Class number two is Thursday. If they’ve got the pool cleaned up by then.