Lovely, Jonathan. And
so true. (You should see my daughter-in-law taking three girls, ages 6, 4, and
2, swimming—what a handful!) Izzy From:
[EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Hughes Jonathan 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 This e-mail and any attachments contain confidential and privileged
information. If you are not the intended recipient, please notify the sender
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