The Education of Little Impling: Chapter 2

To be honest, this is more about my own education, or my recent episode of reality clobbering me upside the head. A while back I began what is ideally to become ongoing coverage of the Impling's education, such as it is. At the moment this is where we are:

The Impling is 3 and a couple months. She is counting, rhyming, memorizing lyrics faster than me (and yes, I am listening to Blue Moo and the soundtrack to Oklahoma 5 to 8 times a day as well), doing giant 100 piece floor pieces with a little help from the Mommy unit, drawing shapes, typing her name, and spouting her phone number to whomever will listen. She loves learning the names of the streets we walk in Brookline. And she LOVES her books. So far, so good.



She is not in preschool. She is, while absolutely fearless in some arenas (see below) also very wary (read terrified) of other children her own age. This tendency, plus our family's lack of money money money, led to the no-brainer conclusion that we would just skip preschool, thank-you-very-much. It turned out to be a very good call. Over the past months, she has in the course of visiting the Science Museum and the Brookline Library story hour become more comfortable with other children. I could see her terror downgrading to fear, then to mild discomfort. Finally, on a day I will never forget, she sat down by the storyteller with a group of about 6 other little girls (who were, truth be told, mostly 4 year olds) and listened raptly to frog stories. This past week, she sat down with a group of 13 little girls and boys, and had a blast. To say I was proud is a vast understatement.

So she is growing up. And here is my little episode of enlightenment:

For the first time, I've sent the Impling off on her "own". One of the classes (actually, the only class) I've enrolled the Impling in ever since she turned 6 months old, is swimming. I loved the water as a child, and I want the Impling to have a chance to learn to love it too. I've blathered on about this before, so I'll skip over my own idyllic learning-to-swim history.

With the Impling, I started off with the swimming lessons at the Brookline High School, then moved over to the BU Recreation Center when BHS closed down for renovations. We only just recently got back to the BHS for their open swim. Anyhow, after years of swimming with my little one, catching her as she launched herself like a rocket off the edge of the pool into the water, chanting "Motor boat, motor boat step on the gas!" and singing "Three little speckled frogs", I signed her up for Two's in Training. Our delay may (*ahem*) have been partially selfish. I love playing in the water with the Impling. I was sad to give it up.


It was, however, the right time. The first class, we were in the water with them as they got used to their two instructors. Last class, the parents stayed at the side of the pool in their bathing suits, and learned to trust the instructors. And who taught us that trust? The one and only Impling, of course.

"Three Little Speckled Frogs" for the uninitiated, is a jumping exercise. The toddlers stand on the edge of the pool, and wait for the magic words "One jumped into the pool" before leaping (or sliding, or vehemently refusing to leap) into the water. This is possibly the Impling's favorite song in class.

But that day, they each had to wait for their turn to jump. You know where this is going. The Impling bopped and sang along with the lyrics, and when the magic words came, launched herself in a beautiful arc into the water. Only, it wasn't her turn. And there was no one on the other end ready to catch her. I lunged forward, but as I called out her name the instructors already had her. She had bobbed up to the surface with a radiant face, and as the instructor brought her back to the edge of the pool, I laughed while my heart was still in my throat and my hair turned white and yelled "THAT WAS AWESOME!"

"Just wait until they're ready for you next time, OK?"

PLEASE.

Next week, we will be in street clothes on the side of the pool. Oh boy.


Crossposted at NE Mamas!