Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Last Saturday, the turtle's swim teacher was filling the three families in her class on options for the next term. My turtle, the youngest of the group, will stay in Mommy and Me 2 for at least another 18 months. Parents of PeeWee swimmers (the next level) aren't allowed in the pool, which is why most of the little ones in that class are three if not closer to four years old.
The two other boys in Mommy and Me 2 are approaching that four mark and should in fact move up a level. But one of the boy's daddy's (a bear of a man with the sweetest disposition) was hesitant. "I don't know how R will like not having me with him." He said, with the slightest crack in his baritone throat.
I was telling Chris about this, saying something along the lines of. "God these parents. How are their kids every going to gain any independence if everyone constantly hovers?" I was feeling pretty cool as I made my free-ranging declaration with confidence.
"You know, " Chris answered, "They're like you. Swim class is probably their special time together. R's dad might not be ready to give that up."
I felt horrible. Of course swim class is their special time. Like me, R's daddy works all week. He sees his children for a few hours before bed-time, but misses out on music lessons, playdates, trips to the museum, and story-time at the library.
I forget that I'm not the only one for whom Saturdays are sacred.
Labels: working mom