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Busy night tonight; we did both swimming lessons and my older son's first band concert back to back. We ate, and drove separate cars to the Y. The boys left directly after their lesson and drove to the school; I virtuously swam laps during my daughter's lesson, and drove in time to catch the kids just starting their concert.
During her lesson, my daughter bumped another student on the head with a swim noodle while the students were seated in a line on the edge. The girl promptly pushed my daughter in - splash! And down she went. The instructors, helping other kids, missed it. I start beating a line from my laps toward the lesson, when the other girl is suddenly yanked in the pool by an unseen force below. The other girl, taller, stands up, revealing my daughter clinging to her ponytail and swimsuit. A laughing, splashing horseplay ensues, separated by the instructors. My daughter, the unexpected problem-solver. (I think she'd tried to haul herself out by the girl's feet dangling in the water, and pulled her in instead. She then took advatage of the cling to get herself up to the surface. Vengeance was not the motivation here.) I went back to laps.
The concert was better than I had expected from sixth graders who'd only been playing for two months. My darling daughter spent most of the concert writhing either on the bleachers or the floor with her hands over her ears (we suspect perfect pitch issues), but sprang up and applauded enthusiastically each time the occasion called for it, smiling widely.
At the bowing part of the session, I saw my son scanning the crowd, so I sprang to my feet and waved wildly so he'd see me. Subtle, I was not. It led a number of other parents to do the same. It was worth it to see his relieved smile. I said I'd come, and I had, swim lesson ending when the concert was beginning notwithstanding.
During her lesson, my daughter bumped another student on the head with a swim noodle while the students were seated in a line on the edge. The girl promptly pushed my daughter in - splash! And down she went. The instructors, helping other kids, missed it. I start beating a line from my laps toward the lesson, when the other girl is suddenly yanked in the pool by an unseen force below. The other girl, taller, stands up, revealing my daughter clinging to her ponytail and swimsuit. A laughing, splashing horseplay ensues, separated by the instructors. My daughter, the unexpected problem-solver. (I think she'd tried to haul herself out by the girl's feet dangling in the water, and pulled her in instead. She then took advatage of the cling to get herself up to the surface. Vengeance was not the motivation here.) I went back to laps.
The concert was better than I had expected from sixth graders who'd only been playing for two months. My darling daughter spent most of the concert writhing either on the bleachers or the floor with her hands over her ears (we suspect perfect pitch issues), but sprang up and applauded enthusiastically each time the occasion called for it, smiling widely.
At the bowing part of the session, I saw my son scanning the crowd, so I sprang to my feet and waved wildly so he'd see me. Subtle, I was not. It led a number of other parents to do the same. It was worth it to see his relieved smile. I said I'd come, and I had, swim lesson ending when the concert was beginning notwithstanding.
