Pool Bait and Switch

When we learned that we were moving to Phoenix, I started looking at real estate. We had both the money and the income security, and I was tired of renting. I wanted to feel like a grown up and own a house.

So I had a conversation with the Doctor about what we would want in a house. Garage? Check. A study? Check. Pool? “No way.” Ch ... Wait, what?

“Children DROWN in pools. I’m not living in a house with a pool. I won’t always be around to protect my kids. No pool.”

Sure children drown in pools, but they also burn themselves on stoves. Should we not cook?

To be fair, and because she reads this, I recognize that a stove is a necessity and a pool is a luxury. Further, I don’t want her stressed about her own home. So I acquiesced. Even though they are relatively harder to find, I limited the search to homes without pools.

The Doctor changed her tune as soon as she tried walking to the base pool in August. The part of her brain that fears pools must have melted away and trickled out her ear at some point during that walk. It was that hot.

Now she’s gung-ho on the private pool idea, but we’re not looking for real estate anymore. In preparation of one day owning a pool, my daughter did have her first swim lesson this weekend.

I was excited. My daughter was going to learn to swim! As soon as she gets the hang of it, the two of us are going to frolic together and share father-daughter moments that will be accompanied by a sappy soundtrack! There might even be a montage!

We get to the Y, we take a seat on the edge of the pool and the instructor introduces herself. She’s got Red Cross training, a PhD in lifesaving, years of experience, etc., and I stop listening. I’m ready to jump in and learn to swim, dammit! There’s valuable frolicking time that we’re wasting!

“This class will not teach your children how to swim.”

Wait, what? Perhaps the instructor wasn’t aware about all the frolicking.

What the class does teach is water safety technique. It’s supposed to get kids comfortable in the water. Which is fine, I suppose, but the frolicking lessons are taught in the next age group.

Nevertheless, my daughter loved it. She even loved putting her head in the water, something that, up until that moment, she had refused to do. By the end of class, her teeth were chattering and she did not want to get out. I had fun, too, but I am still anxious to frolic.