Water Boreding

This is the second year we have taken Charlotte to "Water Baby" swimming lessons in the spring. Classes are once a week, and during the 30 minute lesson, you hold your child in water that comes up to your chest. While singing songs like "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" you help them float on their stomachs and later on their backs. The swimming activities last about 15 minutes. The remaining time is spent playing with toys in the shallow end where the toddlers can walk around and pour water on each other. It's a relaxing way to spend part of your evening, and many parents sign up to repeat the five-week class. We went four times last year, and we're on round two this season.

The only scary part is when you sing "Ring Around the Rosie", and you are encouraged to submerge your child when you get to the "Ashes, ashes, we all fall down" lyric. (It's even more disturbing if you believe the song is a reference to the Black Plague and the burning of dead bodies.) You're told it's really scarier for the parents than the babies, and I think that's true. Last year Char cried some during the "ashes, ashes" dunkings, but this year she smiles, so I can see that the swim lessons are working. 

Actually, "ashes, ashes" used to be the only scary part of water babies. But last night we had an instructor who was new to us, and she didn't follow the above pattern. Not knowing our water baby alumni status, she kept shouting all of her instructions directly at me as if I were deaf. I felt like I was back in wrestling practice.

One water baby goal is to learn the proper hand position of "scooping" the water with cupped hands. We were told to walk in a broad circle with our kids floating on their stomachs. The instructor then spent a minute with each child, grasping their wrists and moving their arms in the appropriate scooping motion. That's a great concept, but there were ten kids in the class, and that meant keeping us circling in a holding pattern for well over ten minutes. I don't know about your child, but mine doesn't want to concentrate on anything for ten minutes straight. She got bored and then frustrated. Twice the instructor caught us moving Char to her back, and twice she shouted directly at me, "On their stomachs, parents! Keep them on their stomachs!" When she spotted Daphne hugging Charlotte in an effort to clam her down, she clapped her hands at me, "Work with me, please! Stomachs!" Grudgingly Daph placed Char back into the proper scooping position. 

I looked over my shoulder to get some support from another parent, but the mom behind us was dutifully dragging her limp and sobbing boy through the water. "He's really tired of holding his head up," was her way of explaining his flow of tears. 

Finally it was our turn for the "scooping". The instructor, her face framed with her long, wet hair, glided towards us with her smiling mouth open and her chin under the pool's surface. I know she was trying to show our daughter how fun it is to blow bubbles, but looking at her approach through Charlotte's eyes - the loud woman with the white teeth was terrifying. I didn't even apologize when our daughter started yelling. I'd yell too if she had grabbed my arms.

At the end of the class we were given a whole five minutes for playtime, and for a treat each baby could go down the slide once, but only once. I didn't want to risk Charlotte wanting to slide twice, so we just left.

I think we'll switch to the Wednesday night class.