21 November 2010


Getting him ready to go to his grandparents' house, every morning as we walk out the door, all I hear is, "Sthim? Sthim?"

Every time. EVERY TIME. Every time we drive by Riverside Wellness Center, from the backseat emerges an excited squeal, "Sthim?"

We have always known that Eamon enjoyed swimming, but now that he is able to talk a bit and express what is on his mind, turns out that he doesn't just like it as much as obsess over it.

Of course, we do swim lessons every Saturday morning, but that is no longer enough. So we take him swimming during the "Family Swim" time at our gym on Saturday or Sunday nights. We are the only family ever there. Sometimes, we are the only people there. So the pool therefore belongs to Eamon Wolfe, and he is happy.

He sthims and sthims and sthims. He kicks the entire time, puts his head underwater, swims on his own with his pool noodle to keep him afloat, and after half an hour or 45 minutes, you can tell that he is exhausted, that there is little energy left in his tiny limbs, but when you ask him if he wants to get out, he screams, "NO NO NO NO NO! STHIM! STHIM!"

Sthim away, little man. Sthim away. Just make sure I get front-row seats at the 2028 Olympics, all right?


Julie said...

He is so awesome. I am getting Riley and Daniel swimming lessons for Christmas now. He could swim them under the table...or some other mixed metaphor like that.

Bethy said...

Sthounds like mimi and da are going to have to build a sthimming pool pretty sthoon.