Flunky Dunky

So, we got Lucy's first ever report card. Hey, at least the "needs improvement" marks are in glitter pen. An "F" is easier to digest when it comes with jazz hands.

Lucy was not promoted to the next level in swim not because she lacked aquatic enthusiasm (she has that in spades), but because she would (and I quote) "will NOT let those bad boys touch me!" The bad boys in question were her two very sweet teenage teachers. Still, Stephen seemed pleased with her attitude toward boys and plans to encourage that phrase until she's 30 or so.

Since the entire class is built around the teachers taking the kids out for swims, Lu's performance was somewhat hindered.

When we got to the pool, she took off running for the water yelling for me to "take off that dress!" She was operating under the misapprehension that this would be a parent and child class. Stephen and I may have inadvertently led her astray on this point.

We sat down for introductions. Hey! These boys are pretty funny!

 Wait. I'm supposed to go in the pool with them? They can't be serious.

 Okay, I am maintaining a nice safe distance here. 

I sense someone approaching.

 No. I don't want to go for a swim with you. Nononononononononono.

 Oh God. They're using the other kid as bait.

Hey other kid: you know that guy will totally dunk you as soon as he takes you out into the middle, right?

That's right, honey. RUN AWAY!!!!

 If I want to stay in the pool I have to go for a swim with Ryan?

See ya!

Ah....Pool with mama and a life jacket. This I can do.