I have very fond memories of swimming as a kid. I'm sure I'm not unusual in this; swimming is a play-time right of passage for many. But I have a very specific memory from my childhood that epitomizes what it means to be a dad. I clearly remember my father with his brown swim trunks with yellow piping, diving deep under water as I held my breath and clung to his neck, forcing myself to hang on as long as I could. I felt like Whale Rider (no offense intended Grandpa Lodwig). As I've mentioned this memory was a powerful one for me, and so I've been looking forward to giving Anya "daddy whale rides" since she was still in mommy's tummy.
Today at the pool at Mountlake Terrace we finally did it!
Anya wrapped her little arms around my neck and had me swim to the bottom of the pool. We decided she could pinch me on the shoulder whenever she wanted up. And so that was what we did. Probably about 3 or 4 rides to the bottom. It meant the world to me.
But it wasn't just the daddy rides that were great today. Today was also the first time that Anya actually swam by herself. Anya doesn't really take instruction very well (read: at all) so she's been flailing around in the shallows by herself for some time, or bobbing around in a life vest telling mom that she swam when we get home. But today she put her head underwater, picked her feet up and began kicking and doing the breast stroke (I did manage to get her to learn that one thing today). And she moved! Very wobbly and very slowly, but it was real unassisted swimming.
I'm extremely proud of all the strides she's been making in the pool over the last couple of weeks.
Chris
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