As a child I loved going swimming. It was one of the highlights of my week and there was never a prouder moment than that when you got presented with your certificate and badge of competency. A rather attractive badge I might add that sported (no pun intended) a picture of an Olympic style athlete completing his 50m (yes, that’s metres not kilometres!) swim, and a badge that Mum would then have the chore of sewing onto my swimmers, just to ensure that everyone knew that with the 50metre challenge under my belt, Olympic victory was well within my sights!
As I have aged the pleasure of swimming has, sadly, waned somewhat and the idea of swimming 50 metres for a poxy badge just makes me feel knackered even thinking about it, let alone attempting it. Nor do I get excited by the challenge of diving for a brick in my pyjamas, a challenge that I never really understood as it’s a) not commonplace to go swimming in one’s pyjamas, and b) it’s unlikely that you would so desperately need a brick that you would have to dive into water to get one as opposed to, oh I don’t know, visiting the local hardware shop.
However, given the fact that I now live in a country where we are predominantely surrounded by oceans and swimming pools, and where water and water activities are as much part of my lifestyle as eating chocolate, I am all too aware of the importance of Mr T learning to swim and so with that, enter stage right – Monday morning swimming lessons.
As with all these ‘activities’ though, it is never quite as straight forward as you might imagine. All up, it takes me about an hour to get organised to get out the door. I have to allow for bag packing, breakfast making, snack organising and dressing. I have to allow half an hour to get there and get changed and then allow a further 10 minutes to try to do a wee in the toilet before we go into the pool (an impressive balancing act performed whilst squatting with one hand outstretched holding onto the door to avoid Mr T unlocking it and flashing my vagina to any poor passing unsuspecting victim), and a final 10 minutes to cajole Mr T away from the temptations of the ‘big’ pool and instead convince him in my best ‘fun’ voice that the lesson will be so much better. And, all this for half an hour in the pool!
Having said that he does enjoy the lesson to a certain degree, and I say to a certain degree purely based on the fact that he does spend a lot of the time asking me ‘Finished now?’. An eagerness expressed purely so he can get into the big pool and swim without assistance, as you do at 2.5 years old! Still, all up, it is a fun way to spend a morning and usually does guarantee the achievement of one very much desired outcome……the promise of sleep!