Swimming

Earlier this week, as I rotated a load of laundry in the basement, I heard Jed yell from upstairs, "MOM! I go swimming in the ocean!" I mmm-hmmmed and continued on my chore routine. A few moments later he burst through the door. He'd dug through his clothes dresser, found the swim diapers, and pulled one out and up over his already fairly bulky cloth diaper. The swim diaper hadn't quite made it over his backside, and sat slightly askew, cloth and lycra gloriously bunched into a shapeless mass. He beamed at me. "Mom! I ready! We go swimming in the ocean now!"

Well, we don't have a local ocean, and the Ohio River is anything but appetizing, but the Newburgh pool is a sufficient substitute for now. Yesterday, we hopped on over for a swim. After a hot, sweaty day, the cool water felt fabulous. Jed's swimming pool experience has been fairly limited thus far, and he waded right into the water, laughing and giggling. First he was a frog, jumping about and hooting at his own brilliance, "Watch me, my mommy! Watch me!" Later he was a baby whale, then a kicking fish, then a dolphin. He played with a few toys floating about the pool, pouring water from little cup to little pan, offering me dinner with a big side of cheesy smile on the side.

As we frolicked about, we got a little bit deeper where the water was up to his chest. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the pool and not scared at all, which made me happy. For a moment, I looked up and watched the other kids playing. I relaxed my big heavy body, relishing the weightlessness on my poor hips and feet. I glanced down. At first what I saw didn't register. Then I realized it was my own dear child floating face down just under the top of the water. Yikes! I didn't panic (to my surprise, in retrospect), but I did scoop him up to my chest, assessing, patting his back and suggesting he cough. He sputtered a bit, red faced. He glanced up at me and gave a watery smile. "Mommy! I swimming!!!" Gee, great Jed. Thanks for being such a big boy. I tried to be cheerful and we steered back towards the side. Despite his pride in swimming, he decided it would be ok to sit on the side for a while and watch. That was ok with me.

Maybe there's something to be said for the much maligned "swimming puddle" in the backyard. . Perhaps I'll throw in some fish and we'll start calling it the ocean.