This weekend’s swimming lesson got cancelled, so I thought I’d take The Boy to the pool at the local leisure centre instead – they’ve got a nice little kiddy’s pool there that he likes. It’s shallow and warm and they have waterfalls and other features that he thinks are fun. We’d spend half an hour splashing around and giggling and maybe he’d remember that the pool can be fun, so when we go to the next lesson he’ll be happier about it.
Only, the kiddy’s pool was shut for the morning, so instead of just turning around and giving up I thought I’d take him into the grown-up pool instead. Not as much fun, but we could still have a bit of a splash around. Big mistake. He was so terrified of being in the pool that within ten minutes he shat himself, and I barely managed to get him out of the pool before a little brown cloud began to escape out of the edge of his swimming nappy. I don’t think anybody noticed.
I didn’t sign up for this shit, so to speak. I know it’s important that he learns to swim, but I’m starting to think we should leave it until he’s a bit older – I don’t want to spend every Saturday morning dragging a miserable, petrified toddler to the pool. We’ll just have to make sure that for the time being we keep him away from boats, rivers and suchlike.