Beatrice, we have our last swim class this morning. This was the first class we've done together. I think it went well. You know I really must love you if I get into a bathing suit and cold water twice a week for you. And follow along in a circle signing nursery rhymes. Sometimes I think we might be on one of those candid camera shows.
As I've mentioned before, you are consistent. Each class when we first get into the pool, you cling to me like a baby kangaroo. All tight and grabby. And somehow, each class you manage to pull my bathing suit top down. That's hot.
The class is about a half an hour but at about minute 22, you're all done. No more smiles, clapping, playing along. Just a sour puss. You have absolutely no poker face.
I think the part you enjoy the most is going into the locker room after class. You are fascinated with the various shapes and sizes in there. There's a group of older women that swims at the same time as we do so they are always in various states of nudity in the changing area. You look at their aging bodies, then look back at me, then back at them, as if to say "Wow, that's your future?" Your face is priceless but mama's not trying to get arrested so I've yet to capture it on film.
Swim away, my little Goldfish (Level 1). Well, you didn't actually learn how to swim... so float away but remember to keep your face out of the water and mouth closed.