Today's first swimming lesson belonged to Ilyana, but of that, later.
Havana took classes this summer and lost her caution of water. She can hold her face and breath under water and paddle with a life vest. Her wee buddy Tristan and her were paired up, and in eight half-hour classes over two weeks Havana was, air-assistedly, able to swim.
Ilyana, on the other hand, miserably failed her first swim class today.
We were at the park. She was hamming it up as usual. Our newly-2 joker was yelling "I'm stuck! I'm stuck!" as she climbed around the play structure. Ritualistically, I would come to assist, she would grin and run off. The joke was repeated ad nauseam, eventually building up to the day's ultimate disaster.
Out of nowhere Illy cried out,"I wanna go potty." So off we went into the park's bathroom structure. I pull her things down and place her squarely onto the toilet seat. Then things got crazy. She raises her hands and yells,"I'm falling! I'm falling!" Then she stabilizes herself, returning her leaning arms down to her side. She laughs in my face. This is 2-year old funny. I show a slight smile. Then she does it again."I'm falling! I'm falling!" But this time. Splash! It was a sad moment in her comic career. One which all comics hope to forget.
I grab her before she disappears into the Oakland Parks Sewer system and she lets out a horrendously loud wail, demanding sympathy. I try not to laugh as I dry off her butt with the paper available.
I considered explaining the lesson of what just happened to Ilyana to her, but it seemed that her recent near-disapearence was more powerful than any words I could concoct.
Well, she managed to get back on the proverbial "bike" and pee and so all was not lost, bar a little 25-month-old's unrelenting cheekiness. And that, only temporarily.
