Relief

I can't remember exactly how many times Téo has been pulled spluttering and gasping from a pool or river, but it's been many. Too many.

Although actually, the last time was pretty funny. It was in the hotel pool in Paris, where thanks to my magnificent packing foresight, he was splashing around in underpants and no swim vest.

- Look at me mummy, I can swim!

- No you can't! You don't have your swim vest! Stay on the steps until Miss M can carry you!

- No I can swim, look!

He leapt off the steps with a huge grin stretching from ear to ear... which, in a very cartoon-esque manner, morphed into a look of wide-eyed panic as his head went under.

So. Swimming lesson time it was.

(Yes, I know, I have said this before. Like, 2 years ago. But! It's not entirely my slackness that has kept him at risk of drowning! I tried to get him in last year, honest, but over here they won't take kids under 5. And even at 5, they hesitate.)

He only got in 3 lessons, thanks to a wet and cold August. But from unfailingly sinking whenever he was unsupported in water, by the end of the third lesson he could do this:

And then yesterday we made him jump into deep water and swim back to the edge.

Which he did, with no sinking and only a little spluttering.

Phew.