Merrin’s Friday afternoon swim lessons are going great. She’s only had three so far as one was cancelled because of the storm last week but I she still looks forward to going to them, so that’s a good sign, right?

After the second class I came home and told Cory that I was thinking to enroll her in private lessons – which I don’t want to because, HELLO, the cost. Merrin’s in a group class so there is 1 instructor for every 3 kids. Of the group Merrin is in she is the most….. enthusiatic – of the lot. While the instructor is in the middle of the pool with one student the other two are buckled in to these seat-thingy on the side of the pool. As you can imagine, Merrin is none too pleased when she is strapped in to the contraption, but she is all out when she isn’t.

During the first class it seemed to me that each student spent a near equal amount of time with the instructor. But during the second class it seemed like the, needier, students were given more attention. And maybe it should be that way. But Merrin sat at the side of the pool, splashing water and playing with a little rubber ducky in between sadly looking back at me. Twice Merrin’s turn was skipped so the instructor could spend more time with the other two students. I was half expecting her to tell me when the class was over that she didn’t have fun this week, or something along those lines.

But she didn’t, and this past week she was ‘paid back’ as the other two kids weren’t there and Merrin had the instructor all to herself, which needless to say she loved immensely. Merrin. Not the instructor, I’m sure.

As Merrin is in swimming lessons, and therefore the pool, once a week we have been shying away from taking the kids swimming on the weekends every 2nd, or 3rd or at least 4th weekend as I was aiming to do. I’ve been feeling more guilty about that lately as (read: poor old) Elsa doesn’t get to swimming a quarter, or perhaps even an eight, as much as Merrin did when she was her age. I want both kids to grow up used to and liking the water and the crazy-mommy-guilt side of me has lately been feeling that I’m going to ruin Elsa for it by not bringing her to the pool and helping her become more familiar with the water.

I probably shouldn’t worry. But I do.

Yesterday Elsa attempted to eat half a grapefruit. She loves grapefruit and gobbles up the flesh and nearly chokes on the juice trying to slurp it in her as fast as she can. But yesterday she got more grapefruit and grapefruit juice *ON* her than she did *IN* her, because *SHE* attempted to eat half a grapefruit. Refusing any help from me, even angrily throwing on the floor any bits of flesh that I had scooped out in my early attempts to feed it to her. After about 15 minutes of poking at and eviscerating the flesh she did let me have at it to squeeze any remaining bit of juice from it. Which she then poured all over herself when she tipped her head back and the bowl up trying to get it all into her gullet.

So though we normally bathe the kids each night before bed – usually more for routine and consistency than necessity – Elsa had a midday bath and hair wash. Cory spent most of the time with her while she was in the tub, while I was cleaning or tidying or doing something I’m sure that’s just as productive and homely.

Cory called out to me to come and when I got to the bathroom Elsa was lying on her belly in a couple inches of water.

“Show mommy you can swim Elsa” he said, and then she began. She twisted her hips back and forth, half rotating to each side of her body while her short chubby legs flopped her feet around behind her and her arms and hands, stretched out in front of her, splashed the water with all her might.

And her head cocked back, eyes locked on mine, and the biggest kind of grin. She was so proud of herself. And I was proud of her too.

We goaded her into ’swimming’ for us several more times, all of us laughing and cheering her on, and her smiling more widely each time.

I just have to take her swimming again sometime soon.