To
be honest, this is more about my own education, or my recent episode of
reality clobbering me upside the head. A while back I began what is
ideally to become ongoing coverage of the Impling's education, such as it is. At the moment this is where we are:
The
Impling is 3 and a couple months. She is counting, rhyming, memorizing
lyrics faster than me (and yes, I am listening to Blue Moo and the
soundtrack to Oklahoma 5 to 8 times a day as well), doing giant 100
piece floor pieces with a little help from the Mommy unit, drawing
shapes, typing her name, and spouting her phone number to whomever will
listen. She loves learning the names of the streets we walk in
Brookline. And she LOVES her books. So far, so good.
She
is not in preschool. She is, while absolutely fearless in some arenas
(see below) also very wary (read terrified) of other children her own
age. This tendency, plus our family's lack of money money money, led to
the no-brainer conclusion that we would just skip preschool,
thank-you-very-much. It turned out to be a very
good call. Over the past months, she has in the course of visiting the
Science Museum and the Brookline Library story hour become more
comfortable with other children. I could see her terror downgrading to
fear, then to mild discomfort. Finally, on a day I will never forget,
she sat down by the storyteller with a group of about 6 other little
girls (who were, truth be told, mostly 4 year olds) and listened raptly
to frog stories. This past week, she sat down with a group of 13 little
girls and boys, and had a blast. To say I was proud is a vast
understatement.
So she is growing up. And here is my little episode of enlightenment:
For the first time, I've sent the Impling off on her "own". One of the classes (actually, the only
class) I've enrolled the Impling in ever since she turned 6 months old,
is swimming. I loved the water as a child, and I want the Impling to
have a chance to learn to love it too. I've blathered on about this
before, so I'll skip over my own idyllic learning-to-swim history.
With the Impling, I started off with the swimming lessons at the Brookline High School, then moved over to the BU Recreation Center
when BHS closed down for renovations. We only just recently got back to
the BHS for their open swim. Anyhow, after years of swimming with my
little one, catching her as she launched herself like a rocket off the
edge of the pool into the water, chanting "Motor boat, motor boat step
on the gas!" and singing "Three little speckled frogs", I signed her up
for Two's in Training. Our delay may (*ahem*) have been partially
selfish. I love playing in the water with the Impling. I was sad to
give it up.
It
was, however, the right time. The first class, we were in the water
with them as they got used to their two instructors. Last class, the
parents stayed at the side of the pool in their bathing suits, and
learned to trust the instructors. And who taught us that trust? The one
and only Impling, of course.
"Three Little Speckled Frogs" for
the uninitiated, is a jumping exercise. The toddlers stand on the edge
of the pool, and wait for the magic words "One jumped into the pool"
before leaping (or sliding, or vehemently refusing to leap) into the
water. This is possibly the Impling's favorite song in class.
But
that day, they each had to wait for their turn to jump. You know where
this is going. The Impling bopped and sang along with the lyrics, and
when the magic words came, launched herself in a beautiful arc into the
water. Only, it wasn't her turn. And there was no one on the other end
ready to catch her. I lunged forward, but as I called out her name the
instructors already had her. She had bobbed up to the surface with a
radiant face, and as the instructor brought her back to the edge of the
pool, I laughed while my heart was still in my throat and my hair
turned white and yelled "THAT WAS AWESOME!"
"Just wait until they're ready for you next time, OK?"
PLEASE.
Next week, we will be in street clothes on the side of the pool. Oh boy.
Crossposted at Rock the Cradle!
