My child is not enjoying swimming lessons at all lately. I'm sure less so after this evening. He is also finding his voice and becoming coordinated enough to dramatically cross his arms, stomp his foot and swing his head around all at the same time while announcing to anyone on the premises that "I am NOT getting in the pool". I am pretty sure snapping fingers are in my near future. Really, I am glad that he is asserting himself, truly I am, even though this display was something containing a bit more attitude than assertion. Though I try to show him the respect that I want him to give me and others, I think I may have missed the mark when I threw him in the pool when I'm pretty sure he would have preferred that I not. Oh, yes I did. Well, kinda I did, yeah I did... I sort of dropped him back in the pool to his waiting instructor when he was contemplating whether he should jump in to her or high tail it the hell outta there. Whatever, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't recommend it, no matter the tales I have heard of people miraculously learning to swim as a result of being tossed into the deep end. Once he emerged from the water, and even after the lesson, he didn't have a word to say about it, he was not hurt in any way. Nonetheless, I undermined the security I am supposed to be giving and I can do better.
I digress. Prior to ever arriving at the pool was the battle to get there. I am so looking forward to the next session that will be taken at the YMCA facility five minutes from our house instead of the one across town. The further one is by far the nicer facility and most citizens in our fair city probably find it convenient that every flippin' freeway in Southern California converges practically in it's very parking lot. Suffice it to say, I do not. Exactly how many Clairemont Mesa Blvd exits can there possibly be in one ten mile radius, off of 4 or 5 freeways?
Again, I digress. I gave Nathan the appropriate warning that it's almost time to get ready to go, at which time he decided to throw the game we were playing all over his room, turn his radio on full blast tuned into nothing but static, squeal and whine his protests about going and finally grasped and pulled on the dog's tail when the dog moved in a direction he did not appreciate. At some point I turned the radio off and commanded Nathan to let go of the dog. I peeled five of his fingers away from Jake's tail and damned if I couldn't get him to let the other hand go. I tried appealing to his kind nature and kept repeating "You are hurting Jake, let go of him" to no avail, his stubborn streak had set in. Not able to come up with a better solution, I slapped his hand at the same time saying one last time, "You are hurting Jake." He let go immediately, shocked, I took him on my lap, the crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks, he quietly unleashed the zinger on me, "Well, you are hurting me!" Ouch.
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