Swimming Lessons

Our kids started their swimming lessons on Monday evening.

These pictures aren't great, because it wasn't light enough inside.

Here's Clay's class.



Clay working on his backstroke.



Spencer and Allison's class.



Spencer and Allison between one-on-one time with the instructor.



This year, we're doing the lessons through the YMCA closer to where Bruce works instead of in our hometown. He has an easier time getting to the lessons that way. And they have their own pool up there, instead of using a local high school's pool, which is what our local Y does. Where we're at this year has a nice set-up, with a couple of lifeguards on duty even while the swimming instructors are in the water with the kids.

Another huge advantage this year is that all three kids are in the water at the same time, even though Clay is in a different division than Spencer and Allison. So Bruce and I are not waiting on the side with a kid who's impatient to get into the water or a kid who is cold and/or tired after being in the water and has to wait for his sibling's turn to be over.

Clay, Spencer and Allison are doing very well. And the timing is perfect, considering that our vacation falls right as their lessons end.

Wednesday, as we were driving home from the lessons, we had some interesting discussions in the van.


I had given the kids a hearty snack before the lessons and planned to give them supper when we got home. But I haven't really been cooking this week because the lessons fall at the time we usually eat supper. I asked the kids what they wanted to eat: PB&J, a chicken sandwich or ham & cheese.

Allison piped up with her usual "ham and cheese," while Clay stuck with his old standby - PB&J.

Spencer's response was "cheese and ham."

I said, "So you want a ham and cheese sandwich?"

"No, I want a cheese and ham."

Just to poke a little fun, I pressed him. "A ham and cheese, huh?"

"No, mom. I want a cheese and ham sandwich."

"Well, Spencer, what's the difference?"

After a bunch of hemming and hawing, he gave me his definitions of both. Evidently, a ham and cheese is mostly plain, but can include mustard, while a cheese and ham would be topped with a tomato.

Okay. Got it! And I'm so happy to understand the difference now. You know, so we can always be on the same page. I'd hate to cheat my boy out of a tomato.


After the swimming lessons, the kids got in the van in their swimsuits with their towels under them. Allison wears a one-piece. (We did bikinis and tankinis while she was potty training, but now that she's older, Bruce and I are only letting her wear one-piece suits. It's just one more method we're using to teach her and the boys modesty. And, ironically, Bruce is far more strict than I am about what she wears, which I think will speak volumes to them as they grow older.)

Allison had glanced down toward her chest and then piped up with this...

"Mom, the parts of my swimsuit that cover my chest... that's where I'm going to have boobies."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that considering genetics and the modesty with which we dress her... ummm, the size she's planning on is not likely.

She paused. Then glanced back down. And then said, "But not where the suit goes up on my shoulders. I won't have boobies there."

Clay giggled and then said, "That would be good if she had boobies up near her shoulders."

Wondering what possibly could be going through his head, I asked him why that would be a plus. He couldn't articulate an answer, but he stuck to his premise that it would be good for Allison to have breasts up near her shoulders.

And that, folks, is how a Boob Man is born.


We had been to the library earlier that day, so Clay was reading a Magic School Bus book on the weather. That kid stores info like his brain is a locked safe. And he asks questions. Lots of questions. So, of course, the next topic we discussed was the weather.

Clay said, "Mom, I sure am glad that we haven't had any tornadoes where we live."

I agreed, but told him there had been tornadoes nearby.

"Where, Mom?"

"I can't remember the name of the town, but it's close."

"How close?

"I don't know."

"Like 20 miles away?"

"I don't know, Clay."

"Maybe it was 30 miles away."

"Clay, honey, I just don't know."

And then, the obvious question that begged to be asked by Clay: "Well, then, Mom, how do you know there was a tornado there?"

Because, really, if a person can't tell you how far away a storm was, then maybe it never really happened. Maybe they made it up. Or just flat out lied.

"Clay, I know there was a tornado there because I saw the newspaper the next day and there were pictures of all the destruction."

Forget waiting for the teen years. He already acts like I'm an idiot.

I'm trying to take comfort in the fact that he's ahead of his time.

After vacation, I have all three kids signed up for private swimming lessons. Can you tell that I'm ready to get rid of all the floaties in our possession?