One of our new year’s resolutions was to get proper swimming lessons so we duly signed up and LO found himself ready for his first lesson along with nine others.
So eager were we, that we turned up about 15 minutes early, meaning that even before the class had begun I had to tell LO off three times for getting into the pool and shouting at the current pupils that their time was up. I also had to remind him that he was four and therefore not to be so bossy.
The lesson finished and everyone got out. Then a teacher arrived at the far end of the pool and everyone ventured over. They all knew what to do and lined up on the side. Lo grabbed my hand a little tighter, so I took him over. She looked me up and down as if checking our suitability for an upmarket club with the most puzzled face I’ve ever seen.
They all got in and with his customary delight at being in a swimming pool, LO disappeared underwater. The teacher dragged him to the surface and then explained to the class what to do. LO disappeared and reappeared under the water three more times, therefore missing the whole explanation and demonstration, but admiring the different hairstyles he was able to create.
He then appeared to be at the opposite end of the pool to everyone else throughout the lesson and at one point ended up in a neighbouring swimming lesson.
Both the teacher and I were shouting at him to listen but my yells ended up in the ether of competing swimming pool noises, and I resorted to a strange miming that meant I had very red ears by the end of the class. The teacher actually double checked his name with him three times, so little attention did he pay when she called him.
The only time I saw him swimming was when he was told to stand still, and the couple of lengths of the pool accompanied by the teacher. Clearly she was telling him to kick his legs, and so he gave it his all and looked like an army cadet learning to march.
At the end of the lesson, one child, guess who, refused to get out of the pool. One of the other mums watching this performance gave me a wan smile and said: “you’ve got to admire his enthusiasm”. That’s code for something in parenting. MrM can take him next week.