Coming clean.

So you've (or, my regular readers have) read many posts this month, in which I mention going to the beach.  BUT, here's what I haven't told you.

I haven't been letting the kids actually swim.

I'm totally freaked out.  I have two small children, neither of whom can swim well enough to save themselves and I'm all alone and it's not particularly gentle water.  And of course, there are no lifeguards.

So I told Tommy to watch out for the "under suck" (his adaptation) and he steered clear.  He'd get water for making castles and would put his toes in, but no immersion.

Then, on Wednesday (our Saturday), he saw a little girl in the water, jumping over the waves and crawling around on her hands.  He was intrigued.  Did he want to do that as well? Why yes, he did.  So in Tommy-style he totally went for it and spent the next hour screaming joyfully at the ocean:  "I LOVE THIS!  THIS IS MY BEST DAY EVER!" I admit that I felt pangs of guilt but the fact is we've only been here for two weeks and compared to the two years he'll have ocean swimming available to him, that is not even worth thinking about let alone feeling guilty about.