Swim class, swim class, swim class. Oh how I dislike taking Isom to swim class. And it's not just one or two days a week. Noooooooooooo, swim class is 5 days a week. Five days of uncertainty. Hey, it's New England! If it's only in the eighties (which it usually is) then the water is friggin' freezin'. And if we have a hot spell in the 100's like last week, it's too darn hot to even think about swimming. Swim class, swim class, swim class. As a child I failed my swim class. I've never really been a pool person. I'm into the wide-open ocean. I love to get in and allow the waves to lift and rock me. When I'm in the Caribbean, I enjoy watching the sting rays, yellow fin snappers, and all sorts of life swarming around me. But swim class!
It seems that Sir Isom isn't that excited about swimming either. He rarely cracks a smile and spends the entire class showing me his bye-bye hands (as I'm doing all of the work, hauling his 14-month-old butt around in that cold water). Heck, I could have run a tub of water and let him kick around in that instead. But I must admit, I'm going to miss class when it's over (in THREE more long weeks). I'm gonna miss the twins, Lauren and all of Isom's other friends. And let's not forget Miss Leslie, she's the teacher. She has such a warm spirit. She knitted these great rag-a-muffin hats for the kids; Isom's yellow and green hat matches with all of his swim suits.
My goal was to keep him busy this summer, besides swimming he's doing other activities in town. But I think I've bitten off more than I can chew this time. And I fear that this swimming class will go on for eternity.
Swimming.
