Because we’re travelling this summer, to a place with a pool, we registered Marie-Hélène for swimming lessons so that she gets comfortable with water. For two weeks, Marie-Hélène jumps in the pool with four other toddlers while the teacher encourages them to blow bubbles and kick their legs.
During her night time bath, Christian declares from the bathroom, “It’s working!”
From the kitchen, I answer, “What’s working?”
“Her swimming lessons! I can pour water on her head, and she doesn’t care!”
Last Friday, I invited John to come and watch. I might mention here that John is a certified lifeguard, and that I am afraid of water. (I wouldn’t call it water-phobia, but I am nonetheless surprised at not finding a term that describes suffocation by water in this crazy-long list.) I can’t stand it when the main character in a movie is trapped in some chamber or other, as water slowly rises. I start breathing heavily, right there in the theater, while Christian holds my hand.
But back to last Friday, when John came with me, he brought the camera. He recognized the teacher, but unless he gets around to clarifying things with her, a set-up would be unlikely… As she set Marie-Hélène on the slide, with me at the bottom to catch my little shrimp, I think I heard her say, “Wave to your daddy!”
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That happened to me once where I started holding my breath during a movie, but watching it in 3-D only made it worse.