Big Fish

Chase took his first ever swimming lessons that finished last week. I have to admit, I almost felt a little obligated to put him in these lessons. I felt like I was inflicting some sort of abuse on Chase by having him be the only child on the planet who had not taken swimming lessons at least once by the age of five. When I told Chase that he was going to get to have lessons, he acted like THAT was the abuse he was meant to take.

But, alas, after his first lesson, he skipped out to the car holding my hand, praising me for the smarts to sign him up for "such fun" lessons.

I had a bit of a gripe with where they had to place him. He has never had formal lessons before, but he was born with gills, as his mother was. But, since these were his first lessons, they put him in a preschool class. His teacher said that she kept forgetting that he was only five, saying that "he is quite mature for his age". I was thinking that maybe it was because he was such an excellent swimmer. Let's be honest. I think it's because when standing in the water with his classmates, while they bob to stay above the water, Chase stands exposed to nearly his navel.

Anyway, Chase has now graduated from the preschool level (humph) and has now been given permission to move up a level. Maybe in the "real" lessons, they will call the "windmill", the crawl stroke. As a former swimming teacher, that kind of rubbed me raw. After a particular lesson, Chase came back calling it the crawl stroke. I was excited that the teacher was finally calling it by the right name. Chase said that she was still saying it wrong...but he had tried to correct her. Gulp. Sorry. As I said, he is my son.