"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."- Joshua 1:9
The last session of my swim class was yesterday. I started a week ago Monday. The class was pretty small - me and two girls, "Dora" (6 mo.) and "Ariel" (9 mo.) (I've changed their names to protect their identities. You'll understand.) If we were competing in the Olympics I'd get the bronze. Actually, I'd get the gold, because they don't let boys and girls compete against each other--- praise God for that!
Dora's mom brought her to class, so I didn't see her dad, but I'm pretty sure he is a fish. She goes under the water and doesn't cry. Crazy! I don't get it. Going under water is whack! I mean, jeez, I spent 9 1/2 months in Waterworld (which Dad says is slightly less time than the Kevin Costner movie, or at least it seems that way), and I'm on dry land now people. Why go backwards -- life is about moving on. I'm serious. Don't try putting me back in-- I'll cry.
What's that? Boys don't cry? Boys who are secure in their masculinity do. And I'm not afraid to admit when I'm in over my head or more to the point, when someone is trying to put me in over my head. There's no shame in being scared out of my swim diaper.
By the end of our first 30 minute class the instructor was modifing her instructions - "Let's do X, but Josh, you can do slightly less than X." No shame. Josh is who Josh is. Mom was supportive. I think she's awesome.
Now, don't get me wrong, I like the water. I like floating. I like splashing. I like being outside. However, I don't like being on my back. I don't like being under water - not that I ever got close. I don't like leaky swim diapers. Actually, I don't really care about that last one, but Mom wasn't too excited about getting wet before getting in the pool. But that Mom's a quick thinker. She discretely dunked us in the pool so that our bottom halves were wet before class began. Mom saves the day - again. But...um... I'd make sure you swim with your mouth closed if you're at Dick Nichols Pool anytime soon.
I think the low point of the class for Mom was when I got too friendly with Ariel. One day Ariel was reaching out to touch me. Not wanting to be rude, I reached for her as well. Actually, I reached directly for the red birthmark on her cheek. It's just like the red birthmark that Dad has on his chest. Sometimes Dad lays down and I push on his red spot. For some reason, it always rings like a doorbell. Dad says its the delivery entrance to Narna. It must only be open at night, because no matter how often I push it, nothing other than the "ding-dong" sound occurs. So, logic said that I should give Ariel's red spot a good pressing to see if it was the day entrance. Long story short, it is not, and Mom turned about the same shade of red.
Now although yesterday was the last day, my actual last day was on the 6th-- yes, I only went to three out of eight. Why is that? Well, the class was actually during my morning nap time, and I kinda got all around crazy for the whole week because I could never find another grove to get into, so we stopped doing them.
Mom says it worked out to be about 50 cents per minute. What can you do?
Dora's mom brought her to class, so I didn't see her dad, but I'm pretty sure he is a fish. She goes under the water and doesn't cry. Crazy! I don't get it. Going under water is whack! I mean, jeez, I spent 9 1/2 months in Waterworld (which Dad says is slightly less time than the Kevin Costner movie, or at least it seems that way), and I'm on dry land now people. Why go backwards -- life is about moving on. I'm serious. Don't try putting me back in-- I'll cry.
What's that? Boys don't cry? Boys who are secure in their masculinity do. And I'm not afraid to admit when I'm in over my head or more to the point, when someone is trying to put me in over my head. There's no shame in being scared out of my swim diaper.
By the end of our first 30 minute class the instructor was modifing her instructions - "Let's do X, but Josh, you can do slightly less than X." No shame. Josh is who Josh is. Mom was supportive. I think she's awesome.
Now, don't get me wrong, I like the water. I like floating. I like splashing. I like being outside. However, I don't like being on my back. I don't like being under water - not that I ever got close. I don't like leaky swim diapers. Actually, I don't really care about that last one, but Mom wasn't too excited about getting wet before getting in the pool. But that Mom's a quick thinker. She discretely dunked us in the pool so that our bottom halves were wet before class began. Mom saves the day - again. But...um... I'd make sure you swim with your mouth closed if you're at Dick Nichols Pool anytime soon.
I think the low point of the class for Mom was when I got too friendly with Ariel. One day Ariel was reaching out to touch me. Not wanting to be rude, I reached for her as well. Actually, I reached directly for the red birthmark on her cheek. It's just like the red birthmark that Dad has on his chest. Sometimes Dad lays down and I push on his red spot. For some reason, it always rings like a doorbell. Dad says its the delivery entrance to Narna. It must only be open at night, because no matter how often I push it, nothing other than the "ding-dong" sound occurs. So, logic said that I should give Ariel's red spot a good pressing to see if it was the day entrance. Long story short, it is not, and Mom turned about the same shade of red.
Now although yesterday was the last day, my actual last day was on the 6th-- yes, I only went to three out of eight. Why is that? Well, the class was actually during my morning nap time, and I kinda got all around crazy for the whole week because I could never find another grove to get into, so we stopped doing them.
Mom says it worked out to be about 50 cents per minute. What can you do?
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