Splish splash – in at the deep end

Every night when Minnie has a bath, we dribble water into her eyes. No, not because we’re viciously vindictive or as revenge for broken nights/random screaming, but to try to get her used to the idea that a bit of water in her eyes isn’t the end of the world. Otherwise she’ll grow up like me (and my husband) who can’t bear to get a drop of water on her face.

12 weeks in, and she’s still not a fan, squirming furiously as if someone had just electrocuted her every time her little face gets wet. For the first time today, it felt like it had been worth it, rather than that I was just being evil, as we hit the pool for her first baby swim session.

I had no real idea how she’d react. She was a bit tired, a bit hungry and a bit cross (mostly because of the first two), which didn’t bode well. But, she does generally tend to love her baths, and had already started grinning winningly at all the new people she saw at London Baby Swim. She even put up with being mandhandled (womanhandled?) into her disposable swim nappy and Happy Nappy, which despite being the smallest size, still looked huge on her.

And the acid test (or given that the water is practically chlorine-free, the pH neutral test) was taking her from the tropically warm changing room into the lovely 33C water. Not a squeak. I then proceeded to bounce, swish, cradle and tow her through the water to something between mild bemusement and enjoyment. Not bad for session one.

We even managed to get through the part where I dribbled water from a plastic watering can around and on her head, even if it still resulted in overdramatic wriggling. And if she’s taken to it like a baby to water, I’ve discovered that I still know all the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and If You’re Happy And You Know It.

Best of all, she spent the afternoon grinning, babbling, playing with toys and (hurrah!) sleeping. Next week, I submerge her. Then, it’s just a small splash to swimming with stingrays, I reckon.

Image: susivinh/Flickr