Swimming
We have joined a sports club called the 'Ambassy Club'. Apparently, it was intended that it be called the 'Embassy Club' but something got lost in translation. Truth be told, it's not the best sports club in the world. Jamie was pleased that there was a squash court but it was only on trying to play on it that he realised it was the wrong size. There aren't many squash players in Shanghai needless to say. The club does, however, have a nice outdoor pool and a pretty decent indoor one which is about 10 degrees colder than the outdoor one.
To date, Eliot has not exactly been a water baby and was shamed by his younger cousin last summer when he refused to sit down in the paddling pool that she was happily splashing about in. Perhaps it is the stifling heat or the warm water or perhaps it is simply being a year older but Eliot is now a keen swimmer, or so he likes to think. In the space of two weekend visits, he has gone from crying when the water got in his face to jumping into the deep end and shooting down the water slide. Another contributing factor to his enjoyment is the purchase of some water wings which keep him afloat and lend him a very false sense of security in the water.
Last week, I took him swimming after school and told him he could go in the shallow bit (which is divided by a small wall from the deep end) while I took off my outer clothing by the side of the pool. I had turned my back for two seconds when I heard Eliot shout 'look at me Mummy'. I turned around to find he had jumped into the deep end and was afloat but with no ability to remain so and no way to direct himself to the edge of the pool. Clearly, the sooner he learns to swim, the better.
In my first week here, I had met a mother at Eliot's school who asked if Eliot would like to do swimming lessons. I said definitely and she said she would organise it. Two months later, she finally emailed to say that she had set up lessons with 'Johnson'. She told me she had spent some time finding out who the best teacher for little children was and then added that I would recognise him as he was the best looking of them. She wasn't wrong although I am not sure which of the two characteristics was the one which persuaded her to go ahead.
Anyway, last Friday, Eliot lined up with his classmates Killian (German, nearly 4) and Jasmine (Chinese, indeterminate age but miniscule). Oliver the child of the organising parent will join next week. It took some time for the children to realise that they were supposed to be having a lesson and then there was some crying when the strange man talked to them but Eliot was keen and duly put his face in the water to blow bubbles as instructed. Killian continued to cry and Jasmine refused to go in the pool. Eliot came out because he needed the toilet. Killian continued to cry, Jasmine refused to get in the pool. I attempted to find Eliot a toilet. In a brilliant piece of planning, the only toilet is three hundred yards and two flights of slippery stairs away. I assume most children take this as a licence to wee in the pool. Not Eliot. Clearly desperate, the life guard (who, incidentally, sits miles away from the pool facing the other direction) shouted at him not to wee in the foot washing pool. I appealed to Johnson 'he won't make it to the toilet, do you want him to go in the pool?' Eliot was then hurried towards the outdoor showers which to my knowledge are never used - at least not for showering.
At the end of the lesson, Eliot went under the water to pick up Johnson's watch from the bottom of the pool. Killian continued to cry. Jasmine had still not got in the pool. I call the lesson a success.
To date, Eliot has not exactly been a water baby and was shamed by his younger cousin last summer when he refused to sit down in the paddling pool that she was happily splashing about in. Perhaps it is the stifling heat or the warm water or perhaps it is simply being a year older but Eliot is now a keen swimmer, or so he likes to think. In the space of two weekend visits, he has gone from crying when the water got in his face to jumping into the deep end and shooting down the water slide. Another contributing factor to his enjoyment is the purchase of some water wings which keep him afloat and lend him a very false sense of security in the water.
Last week, I took him swimming after school and told him he could go in the shallow bit (which is divided by a small wall from the deep end) while I took off my outer clothing by the side of the pool. I had turned my back for two seconds when I heard Eliot shout 'look at me Mummy'. I turned around to find he had jumped into the deep end and was afloat but with no ability to remain so and no way to direct himself to the edge of the pool. Clearly, the sooner he learns to swim, the better.
In my first week here, I had met a mother at Eliot's school who asked if Eliot would like to do swimming lessons. I said definitely and she said she would organise it. Two months later, she finally emailed to say that she had set up lessons with 'Johnson'. She told me she had spent some time finding out who the best teacher for little children was and then added that I would recognise him as he was the best looking of them. She wasn't wrong although I am not sure which of the two characteristics was the one which persuaded her to go ahead.
Anyway, last Friday, Eliot lined up with his classmates Killian (German, nearly 4) and Jasmine (Chinese, indeterminate age but miniscule). Oliver the child of the organising parent will join next week. It took some time for the children to realise that they were supposed to be having a lesson and then there was some crying when the strange man talked to them but Eliot was keen and duly put his face in the water to blow bubbles as instructed. Killian continued to cry and Jasmine refused to go in the pool. Eliot came out because he needed the toilet. Killian continued to cry, Jasmine refused to get in the pool. I attempted to find Eliot a toilet. In a brilliant piece of planning, the only toilet is three hundred yards and two flights of slippery stairs away. I assume most children take this as a licence to wee in the pool. Not Eliot. Clearly desperate, the life guard (who, incidentally, sits miles away from the pool facing the other direction) shouted at him not to wee in the foot washing pool. I appealed to Johnson 'he won't make it to the toilet, do you want him to go in the pool?' Eliot was then hurried towards the outdoor showers which to my knowledge are never used - at least not for showering.
At the end of the lesson, Eliot went under the water to pick up Johnson's watch from the bottom of the pool. Killian continued to cry. Jasmine had still not got in the pool. I call the lesson a success.
posted by The Heywoods at 3:07 pm
<< Home