Luckily, Mike offered to take on the role of Parent Who Takes Him In The Pool. Which is good because 1. it gives them some male bonding time and 2. I’m a wimp and I’d be hauling him out of the pool the second he started whining.
After the lesson, I tried to give a casual shrug to Ryan’s swim teacher. You know, an attempt to look cool and unconcerned about the fact that I’d spent my morning behind a soundproof glass partition, watching my kid silently scream as catchy pop music filled the room. The instructor must get that look of weary confidence all the time, because he breezed by me and quipped “He’s fine. He’s got it, he’s fine.”
Oh, totally. He’s fine.