Yet another Fatherhood Friday is upon us – welcome! If you have a moment, check out some of the other great entries over at Dad Blogs, and be sure to enter the big Father’s Day Giveaway in conjunction with DadGear and my column, Armed and Fatherly.
Every time that I change my daughter’s diaper, I always keep an eye out for a variety of things. I check for the standard abnormalities – the beginnings of diaper rash, the “red bummer” that may indicate food sensitivity, the stray Cheerio that has worked its way down there and molded itself to her thigh. Beyond that though, I am always on the sharp lookout for what would admittedly be a miraculous appearance of fins, gills, or even webbed feet. Because, you see, my daughter has an unnatural love for water.
In all honesty I don’t understand why all kids aren’t this way. After all, most kids (beyond those that are grown in secret government vats to someday emerge and become census workers) spend the first nine months of their lives submerged upside down in a dark confined water filled sac. So why would something as innocuous as floating in a swimming pool be a harrowing affair?
And yet my wife reports from her infant swimming class that a majority of the kids in their were NOT particularly comfortable in the water. Except Justine that is. She delights in the pool going experience, revels in it perhaps. She’ll repeatedly jump into the pool from sitting on the side, pumps her arms and legs when held on her stomach, and has passed several preliminary SCUBA certification tests. The other parents look on in wonderment as Justine performs these feats while their own children throw fits of abject despair upon being thrust into the same situations. While I have no proof, I’m reasonably sure that one of the other parents keyed our car.
Her love for water has always been evident, even from her first bath, which I’ve discussed before. In the first few weeks, we used to rush through the process, trying to get Justine at least smelling clean without subjecting her to a lengthy stint in the infant tub. But we quickly realized that she loved it, and as time went on we let her stay in there for longer and longer periods of time. Now we’ve contemplated a “Kramer-esque” life in the tub for her, spending her entire childhood partially submerged in a small inflatable rubber duck. Unfortunately, thanks to a helpful woman down at Child Protective Services, I’ve learned that this would be considered “negligence,” and jail time would put a damper on my illegal baby racing ring.
So what will the future hold for our aquatically inclined daughter? Does she have a Phelpsian Olympic record breaking career ahead of her? Might she become a world famous oceanographer diving on the submerged ruins of New York City after global warming swallows it up? Could her legs fuse together into a large tail and she’ll move under the sea and begin having lengthly and intelligible conversations with a lobster and a fish?
Only time will tell, but I have begun crafting a trident just in case I need it.
- MWF -
