I took the little man swimming today for the first time. Trepidation as with most things I take him to set in early in the morning. Can I find a new place, will he crap in the pool which hits me with a giant fine and looks of derision from the women in the group and could I change in front women with my 34As and the start of a tradesman belly due to over drinking of my favourite wines?
So I sucked in my belly which I gleefully released on entry to the pool and set about teaching the wee man the ways of the water. I think of myself as a strong swimmer so this is quite an important thing for him to do. The pride was immense as he not only kept his bowels in check but seeing his little legs motor away and a look of glee come across his face was great. You want the best for your children and now I want to live vicariously through him and win that Olympic gold. I know I (I mean he) will have to work hard but I'm sure I can win.
So an hour later fear was gone and a new sense of determination to fill his life with back breaking work, early mornings and a prison like regiment has come to me. Second place is not good enough. Maybe not... In reality just getting him to experience new things is great and as long as he can swim away from Jaws I'm happy.
Anyway I said good night to the new Michael Phelps, shame I can't name any good British male swimmers, and sat back to bask in dreams of Olympic glory. Top man.