… A tall order perhaps but if I don’t at least aim for that what’s the point, eh?
So, I am now a father. I should really be posting more frequently. Time goes by in a blur of commuting, late night squats (baby in arms), and soon-forgotten wisdom.
… But this one I wanted to note.
I can’t swim. I get a bit better as years go by. At least I’m less fearful of the water. So I can now enjoy tropical holidays and appreciate, if not fully partake in, the calming magnificence of a Thai beach hut just for the two of you (not that I’ll be in that situation anytime soon). But, ultimately I can barely thread water. I’ve tried to learn several times as an adult but just can’t seem to get the hang of it. I jump in full of gusto, relish the sensation of a few kicks, and emerge coughing and gasping a few seconds later.
It doesn’t bother me as much add it once did but growing up it had a real impact. Holidays away, moments of silly fun… Just confidence and such, all took their knocks.
But today I held my son, four months old, in the warm water of a pool and he laughed and gurgled and tried to break free from my hands to glide along the water. He’ll have his first lesson next week. Babies swim beneath the surface apparently and take to it as readily as, well, a duck to water.
I don’t expect him to win a badge at a year old nor to dive at two. But BUT he’ll be free where as I was not and, in a small way, happy where I was not.
I hope he laughs in the water when a toddler. Flirts as a teen. Skinny dips in some dark pool with a girl that takes a fancy to him. I hope he travels and leaps from boats in Halong Bay and dives in the Australian reef.
He’ll have something I didn’t and that’s wonderful. What more could I ask for my son.
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