Yesterday was swimming lessons. While Tony and his friends are in their 30-minute class, I take the time to swim laps. I consider myself a good swimmer.
After class, I play with Tony and his best friend. Several times that play includes giving the kids a ride down to the "black line," the line that shows the steep decent from five feet to the ten-foot depth of the pool. I have never had a problem carrying the two five-year-olds from the three-foot end to that point and back since I can touch the bottom the whole way.
Yesterday, the kids spent the last few minutes of class time learning how to use and trust a life jacket. The instructor had them jump into the ten-foot level with the life jacket on. It was there at the deep end of the pool where class ended, so I thought I'd give "my" two kids a ride back. Remember, I've done it before and never had any problems and I knew the kids would enjoy it.
Yeah Right. One problem. They were in the ten-foot level beyond the black line. I didn't think of that.
After the two kids slipped securely into my arms, I moved off the edge and promptly started to sink. Oops. I kicked furiously to stay afloat while I started praying. Tony and his friend were having the time of their life while I struggled to keep them and myself above the water. I headed for the side and was finally able to grasp that sturdy wall.
As soon as I had a firm hold on the wall Tony and his friend clamored for more. I calmly scooted down the wall until I passed the black line, and then headed out again this time with my feet firmly on the ground. We made it the rest of the way back without any problems. We stayed very close to the three-foot wall the rest of the hour we played together.
I'm glad the kids didn't realize the danger we were in.
No comments:
Post a Comment