Every Sunday morning in term time since the boy was 3, I’ve been in the swimming pool for lessons with a child. Firstly it was the boy, then when he moved up a class, it was Fifi, then for the last three years it’s been Ned. I’ve done various games, encouraged swimming, fought off horrendous hangovers and been incessantly splashed in the face for over 5 years now.
And it’s at an end. Ned has levelled up to the next class, surrounded by girls (little girls in the pool, two 6 formers in helping and the class is lead by a young lady too), which has put him in his element- he is an assured ladies man. He’s done it without a backwards look, with surety and confidence too, something that has characterised him since his step up from playgroup to nursery. In the middle of all this, he’s now completely dry at night too.
What a superstar.
Still, when it comes to fiddling or shoving things down the plughole, he’s still got some way to go. I had to get my needle nosed pliers out the other day and fish out three squished raspberries from the waste in the downstairs toilet’s sink.
Cheeky.