There's been lots of good news lately for the Laid-Offspring, the most momentous being that both of my sons were graduated to the next level of swimmer's training. TwoBert, trussed up as he was in PFDs, finished his Little Dipper course and will begin next week as a Tadpole. He achieved this by demonstrating a willingness to float on his back, to dogpaddle furiously toward the shark toy with the squirty mouth, and to jump off the side of the pool onto his father's head. He also received high marks for his spirited "Hokey Pokey."
To his credit, he did swim the breadth of the pool twice, with a noodle tied around his nethers (for maximum midbody buoyancy) and a big floaty barbell in his hand. He then came home, trudged up the 68 steps, and napped for 3½ hours.
Robert is a much bigger success story, because his swimlane to success has had a few whitecaps. He's been plagued by doubts, over his stamina, his coordination, and his overall disdain for the idea of frolicking in a substance that can kill you. He's already overthinking things, just as I do; I only hope he can feel comfortable admitting his fears to me, and that I can help him confront them a bit by talking them through. We've had a few chats about risk and reward, and how the best things to get are the ones you expend the most effort for. Later on, when he dove in (headfirst!) and swam the length of the pool for the first time, it took a lot of effort not to dive in after him and hug his waterlogged brains out.
He now gets to be an Otter, if he wants, but I suspect he's happy to focus on Tee-Ball, which begins on Saturday. We finally got a note from his coach about his team (the Angels), the uniforms (which have pants!), and the schedule, which he has already transcribed onto his wall calendar. He has also made a sign that says, "THE RED SOX ARE MY FAVORITE MAJOR LEAGUE TEAM BUT MY FAVORITE TEE-BALL TEAM IS THE ANGELS SO NO OFFENSE."
I am to have this with me at all times, often waving it vigorously.