Last night I took my two and
a half year old son Noah to his first swimming lesson. Noah isn't
really afraid of water as much as he is afraid to spend time with
someone other than his mother. Last night was daddy time. He didn't
have his nap during the day and was mildly cranky by the time we left.
It didn't help that he stubbed his toe a few minutes prior to leaving.
What? Mommy isn't coming? "Will they have toys there?" "Trucks or
cars?" Hmmm. Not a great start.
Grandpa accompanies us to
the pool which is only five minutes from our townhouse. "We going in
there?" Noah points. "Yes, sweetie. We have to go to the change
room." "Why?" "So we can put on our bathing suits." "OK," he
replies. Daddy and Noah go into the boy's changeroom. Noah scans the
outline of the room, taking in the large amount of grey lockers. "Sit
on the bench Noah and we will put your bathing suit on." Each article
of clothing I remove prompts Noah to ask "why you take my [shoes,
socks, pants, shirt] off?" "We just wear out bathing suits sweetie,"
Daddy assures him. Now, Daddy is a bit on the overweight side. Daddy
thinks wearing his T-Shirt into the pool may be a wise move to avoid
shouts of Shamoo! Noah clearly thinks Daddy should look just like
him. "Daddy, take off your shirt!". Daddy grimaces, realizes that
what is good for the goose is good for the gander and removes his shirt.
Most public pools force you
to take a quick shower rinse. Noah takes a daily bath but has never
been in a shower. "Daddy, you get wet." After some prompting and the
holding of his hand the water warms up enough for Noah to "get wet".
Noah opens his mouth attempting to drink the shower water. "Ok Noah,
let's go meet the kids we will swim with." Noah and Daddy, hand in
hand, walk out to the pool. It turns out there are four pools in the
complex: two hot or warming pools and two much larger pools, one of
them shallow and interspersed with small islands. Noah immediately
states that he wants to go in the "little one."
The class is ready. The
teacher asks the parents to walk their children down the incline into
the water. Noah and I take up the last position. Daddy begins to walk
down the ramp; Noah stands absolutely still. Lifting 36 pounds of
toddler we descend into the water. "I want to go home" becomes the
refrain for the next five minutes. Noah becomes completely fixated on
his own situation. Like most of us when we become stressed we tend to
limit our vision. We don't see all the kids playing around us, or hear
the hubub of joy. We don't appreicate the silky feel of the warm
water. We want to go home.
Daddy continues to reassure
Noah. Little pecks on the cheek, followed by attempts at expanding his
vision. "Look at what that kid is doing Noah. Wow, see how she kicks
her feet? Is that a slide over there? Let's wave to Grandpa.
Remember honey, Daddy is holding you tightly. He won't let you go.
You are safe." Slowly Noah begins to take in his surroundings. One
arm drops from my shoulder into the water, a small splash results. A
smile forms on Noah's face. "Do it again Noah." Another splash
follows. Noah is beginning to enjoy himself. The parents and kids
form into a circle and sing Old MacDonald has a Farm. When it is
Noah's turn he states that MacDonald has a truck, with a vroom, vroom
here and a vroom, vroom there. The teacher grabs a few balls and
encourages the kids to kick or throw them to each other. Noah likes to
kick more than throw. We move to different stations as we move around
the pool. We get to an area deep enough for the children to jump off
the sides. I place Noah on the wet tile. He is used to having part of
me touching him at all times. Now he is standing on the side of the
pool, a slight shiver. "Jump Noah. Daddy will catch you. I
promise." Noah dives more than he jumps, a magnet for my embrace.
"Good boy Noah. Did you like that?" "Do it again Daddy!" Noah jumps
in a few more times.
We continue to frolic in the
pool. Noah goes down the chidren's slide, happily falling into the
arms of his father. The half hour is approaching its end. It is time
to go into the 'warming' pool, the little one Noah wanted to go into
originally. The small pool has seats on the side with jets blowing
bubbles. Noah is not too sure about these jets. "What is that
noise?" "Those are air jets that make bubbles. They feel really cool
if you put your hand in front of one." Noah gingerly puts his hand
under the bubbles to meet the rush of the jet. "Woooooh," he says.
Most of the kids have now left the pool. Only two of us are left.
Noah shakes the teacher's hand and says, "thank you." It is time to go
home.
I am reminded of an
illustration that TF Torrance tells about walking with his daughter.
His daughter's tiny hand is engulfed in his own. She thinks that she
has ahold of her father but in reality it is her father who has ahold
of her. Last night Noah gripped me tightly but it was really my grip
on him that mattered. Daily we apprehend God but it is God's grip on
us that matters; our tiny hands engulfed by His.
Jonathan Hughes
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