Today Piglet and I went to swimming class.
I love swimming class. I loved our old swimming class more, if truth be told, as even though the pool was a bit on the chilly side it was a two minute walk from my flat, and there weren’t three different swimming classes going on at the same time, consisting of different age groups, so that you struggle to hear your own instructor above the din. However, the new swimming class is OK.
We do have to get the bus though, and the buses are only once an hour on Sundays.
I KNOW. Once. An. Hour. Apparently that is how things roll down here in the provinces. Also how things roll is that when you get on the bus, everyone ignores you while you spend five minutes trying to fold down a Bugaboo because SOME FAT CHAVVY WOMAN WITH A CHILD WHO IS BIG ENOUGH TO GO TO WORK cannot be bothered to remove her own enormous, school-aged child from their tiny and very easy to fold down pushchair and onto the empty seat next to her.
Not that I am judging or anything. Oh no. Far be it for me to judge another.
Also, on an entirely different note, what is it with all these dads taking their babies swimming and then getting THEIR WIVES to change the babies? Like, I get it daddy, you want to do all the fun stuff but not any of the boring tedious stuff like changing the little mite out of their wet swimming outfit whilst they try and grab a nearby traffic cone (I mean, what was a traffic cone even doing in the changing rooms, I ask you?) and swing it about your head, or chase a little Piglet around a changing room in the buff in full view of everyone when they start heading towards the door and out onto the poolside. I can only imagine that the men’s changing rooms are a veritable zen-like haven of tranquility more befitting an expensive spa resort than the swimming pool of a secondary school, as there must be ABSOLUTELY NO CHILDREN IN THERE.
However, at least there are no cumbersome buggies hanging around (except mine) as everyone drives to the pool.
Drives! Fancy that!
I can’t even drive. I am not worthy of the name of parent. This must be why Piglet today referred to Granny as Mumma.
In other news, he can now say an actual, verified word. A real one.
It is regrettably not Mumma (at least not aimed at the correct person. Usually it’s “where’s your mummy Piglet?” and he points at a lightbulb, nearby table or other random object, before gleefully shouting his only genuine verified word, which is “BALL!”
Today there was a ball in the swimming pool, and he practically swam independently across the pool, shouting “Ball! Ball!” he was so desperate to grab it. I was puffed up with pride at my child’s way with words. For all his love of balls, if Piglet doesn’t grow up to be a famous sportsman I will be astonished. Perhaps we should choose a sport other than swimming, in order to reflect his true interest. Water polo, anyone? Does that even involve a ball?
What? One every hour? That’s a nightmare! I’m the same – I can’t drive, too! It’s horrible. But I have since started realising that I was born to be chauffered! BWhahahhaaa! 🙂
*Visiting from #fartglitter.
I know-and then I’m left waiting on tenterhooks hoping there’s space for a pushchair as if not then we’re screwed!
Ugh, Sunday service- the bane of my youth. At one point in a tiny village in Scotland it only came once every two hours on a Sunday!
Think of all the good you’re doing for the environment? Nope?
Good luck with the non-zen changing room and thanks for linking up with #fartglitter x
Thanks. Best of luck with the new linky. Hope it went well. x
Ive taken Monkey since he was 10 weeks and he loves it. Although I must confess I can’t wait for the day he can get in on his own with the instructor (3+ years takes its toll!). Sounds like the buses are a bit of a nightmare 🙁 love that he has his favourite word x #BabyBrainMondays
Piglet loves it too. Well, he did. He’s starting to wise up to the fact that I keep dunking him underwater now and is somewhat less keen. Hopefully this too shall pass and he will start to love it again soon!
Thankfully my husband doesn’t fit into that category, he quite often takes our son on our own and does all the graft, he loves it 🙂 Popping by from the #coolmumsclub
🙂 That’s good to hear. Thanks for commenting!
I love your writing style! I never thought of it like that but yes there must be a sense of Zen in the male change rooms! It used to drive me crazy getting my bus out of their swimmers thankfully now they are pretty independent. Stopping by from #justanotherlinky, I’m linked up after you
I was thinking today that it must be so much easier when they’re a bit more independent, but then I saw a sign at swimming today reminding everyone that children over the age of 8 should be in the changing rooms for their own gender, and it occurred to me that one day I will have to send Piglet into the changing rooms on his own. Argh! Hopefully he’ll be past the slipping over on the wet floor and eating bits of abandoned crisps stage by then.
Hi Min, sounds like a proper boy…obsessed with balls already 😉 Thanks for linking up to #coolmumclub…you are ALWAYS welcome! x MMT
Indeed. I had been hoping he would break the stereotype but it seems like it’s not to be…
I’m almost two weeks in to being a baby swim teacher. I see a lot of Daddy’s who do seem to do the whole works! I have equally as many who come armed with mummy to take over when the fun has ended! I’ve just done my lesson plans for the week and balls are involved. Can’t wait now! (And that’s rubbish about the buses, my mum didn’t drive, hope you’ve invested in a good waterproof winter coat!)
Yay! I hope you are our swimming teacher. This week Piglet was shouting “ball” again, and yet there was not a single ball in sight. He just loves practising the one word in his vocabulary I think.
Ah I miss taking Arj swimming (well watching from the sidelines!). His daddy used to take him in the pool AND get him dressed (why would I want to get my dry clothes wet?!!??!!). Thanks for linking up to #BabyBrainMOnday x
Thanks for commenting!
You paint such a picture I can imagine it from when I used to get the bus in London with my massive bugaboo to our swimming lessons, gave up in the end and used to walk! Loved this rant, one of my favourites! #effitfriday
Thank you! Sadly we live much too far from the pool to walk. I need to find somewhere closer!
We loved swimming when mine were younger. Well done on the word – love it! Thanks for linking up to #justanotherlinky xx
Thank you. Piglet is hating swimming at the moment actually. He’s suddenly developed the realisation that when I say his name, I’m about to dunk him underwater. And he has decided that he is not happy about this. AT ALL. Looks like my dreams of him being the next Michael Phelps may be dashed.
Great points here. Why Dads do that at the pool. Fun = them: Not fun staffs = us! I also don’t drive too. It takes me one whole hour traveling for just 30 mins of swimming class. I am nuts! lol! Thank you for linking up with me again. #FabFridayPost
Ditto! Alas, I used to live across the road from our old swimming class.