Baby swimming. Babies actually learning how to swim. Sounds great doesn’t it? Forget baby music, baby yoga and baby sign language, this is a crucial life skill taught lovingly and enjoyably to grateful mini-mermaids by caring and dedicated parents. Then comes the underwater photograph à la Nirvana album cover 1991, swiftly followed by numerous material badges sewn proudly onto the swimming towel. Happy mummies, happy little water babies.
Or, as I have discovered, weekly water torture. Squeezing into an increasingly unforgiving swimming costume, explaining that you are not ‘expecting number 2’ it was just bad posture, spending 20 minutes in tepid water trying to unclamp limpet-like child from neck, quashing murderous thoughts as ‘Talula-With-Gym-Body-Mother’ performs perfect half dives, then shivering for half an hour in damp costume attempting to dry and re-clothe cold and wriggling 2 year old using illegal biscuits as bribes in the ‘no food please’ changing room.
Hmmm. Baby yoga’s looking good.