I cried at swim lessons today. Not a snot cry, just moisture 'round the lids type crying. Pure pride, that's all.
On Tuesday, after the first lesson, Felix erupted into tears because Simon wouldn't share a stall in the locker room with him. I had a feeling there was a tad more to it than that. Right there in front of God and everybody, he sobbed that he never wanted to come back to swim lessons, that he hated it and didn't want his teacher trying to drown him anymore.
After much(much, much, much) chatter, all day long, he finally came around to giving it one more shot. His goal is to teach his friends, Mazzy and Jack, to swim underwater. He concluded that he had to figure it out before he could teach them, thus...day two. (Simon's end goal, btw, is to do a front flip off the diving board O_o)
Yesterday, Felix's teacher told me he would make a great lawyer someday, what with all his negotiating and all.
Today, he was jumping off the diving board into 14 feet of water. With more gusto than I've ever seen him have for anything.
Simon is thriving and diving, too. He loves his teacher and has finally figured out that you don't have to have a full face mask to swim, though he does still insist on regular goggles. Three days in, they're both begging to go back at the end of each lesson.
That Felix has been in the tattle tale stage for the last four and a half years or so, but it's reaching this point of no return where he tells on Simon for e-v-e-r-y-thing. Usually, I can force them to work it out. Today, though, we had a Craigslist purchaser on their way, Costco fixing to close before I could get there to buy butter and diapers for the totally non-participating potty trainee and potential renters coming to view the house(the thrill of my life, these days). I did not have time for tattling today. But...
He came trotting down the stairs, completely disgruntled, red-faced and all, "Simon just called me a 'beyotch!'"
Normally, I wouldn't post such a story because it shows obvious flaws in my parenting skills. This story is funny, though, he didn't get it from me and he didn't use the real 'b' word.
The word had barely left his mouth and I was at the stairs, "SIMON AVERY! Get your BUTT down here!"
crickets chirp chirp chirrrrrrpping
"Simon, why are you not in my line of vision yet?!"
His little head popped around the corner and I got, "It's not a bad word."
I assured him that it is, he argued that it isn't, I gave him the are-you-really-going-to-argue-this-point-with-me-? look.
Keep in mind, during this entire exchange I'm wanting to die laughing, b/c I actually think the word beyotch is hilarious. The crickets came back right before I asked the dreaded, self-incriminating question: "Where did you hear that word?" His answer, "Zathura." It wasn't me, it wasn't me! The punishment...he can never watch that movie again and he is destined to watch only animated movies deemed fit by me, his psycho mother.
The same mother who covered the television with a giant pillow the other day because I anticipated a scene in a preview that never actually happened. With every step I took towards the tv, I took one step closer to becoming my mother. But you know what? I'm glad my mom covered our eyes! I'm glad my mom turned the channel when she saw necessary. I'm glad my mom cared enough about decency that she instilled the tricks of anticipating ill timed, inappropriate content.
Nowadays, it's funny. Especially since her three children have eleven children between them. I do still appreciate it though, Mom. :)
Anyways, blogging time is over. I was only writing to stay awake b/c Sean was going for a run and he said he knew there was no way I'd be able to stay awake til he came home. Looks like I just did.
Tomorrow, I have some layouts to share and three weeks of Project Life to post. Yay, Friday!