Can I handle another one?

As previously promised, more on our adventures at the West Valley City Rec Center.

As you can probably imagine, Noah was elated to finally play at the pool. The last time we were at the rec center, Noah couldn't stop asking if we could "go there," pointing to the pool. Since then I've made a couple of good-intentioned promises to take him, but we never made it. Either I came home late from work or James was too tired, there was always something holding us back from going. But, since I escaped from work early last Tuesday, there was really no excuse not to go.

James, Noah, the girls and I spent most of our time in the kiddie pool. And the kiddie pool did not suffice for Dan and Les. They took swimming lessons last summer and were eager to SWIM (as opposed to standing in two feet of water). Dan asked me if she could play in the big pool and I told her that she could if she and Les went with James. So, off they went. Noah couldn't handle playing with his mama in the kiddie pool, not with his cousins and papa off playing somewhere else. He wanted to go to the big pool!! "I GO THERE! I GO THERE!" I kept trying to explain that the BIG pool is for BIG kids who know how to swim. But, how do you tell a two year old that "swimming" in the bathtub is NOT the same as swimming in a pool? You can't. There is no reasoning with a two year old, a child who has no concept of depth, of measurement.

I switched tactics and tried to distract him. He was having a great time on the "duckie slide," so I took him by the slippery little hand and walked with him over to the slide - which is perilously close to the big pool. Not a good move on mama's part. Noah must've thought we were walking to the big pool, the same pool I told him he could not play in because the second he spotted the pool, he took off RUNNING. Faster than I have ever seen him run in my life. He ran to that pool faster than he ran to the little plastic eggs filled with contraband sweetness. Faster than he runs to Lolo in the morning. Faster than he runs from me when I'm trying to put a diaper on his naked butt. Faster than Forest Gump.

I yelled at Noah to stop running "RIGHT NOW!" but he didn't want to have any part of it. He saw his chance to play in the big pool, with the big kids and he wasn't going to listen to his mama yelling at him. He didn't even hesitate. He didn't pause. He didn't look to see where he was jumping. He just jumped. He jumped into the pool. And then I screamed. I screamed his name and it sounded like someone ripped the heart out of my chest. Because that is what it felt like. And then I jumped in after him. (But not before taking the briefest moment to look at the numbers on the edge of the pool. If that pool was deeper than six feet, I would be of no help to Noah and would probably make any attempt to rescue him more difficult. It was four feet deep.)

I jumped in and grabbed my baby. I hoisted him out of the water so that he could breathe. I looked him straight in the eyes to make sure that he could see me, so he wouldn't panic, so that he would know that his mama had him. I asked if he was okay, he nodded and James took him from me. By this time three or four lifeguards had come to make sure that we were okay (which we were). Noah wasn't phased by any of it. He wasn't crying. He wasn't scared. He didn't care that I felt like someone had stomped all over my guts. He just wanted to play in the pool.

Once I got out of the pool, James and I took Noah aside and tried to explain as best we could to a two year old that what he had done was dangerous, that he could've been seriously hurt. Noah nodded his head and looked at us solemnly, as if he understood every single word we were saying. But James and I have this terrible habit that my parents hate. We talk to Noah like he's much older than he really is. And most of the time (we think) he understands us. This was not one of those times.

Not two minutes after he jumped into the big pool, not ten seconds after we finished talking to Noah about the dangers of just jumping into the pool, not five seconds after we stood up to take him back to the kiddie pool, where the water is a foot deep, Noah did it again. Again he jumped into the pool. This time it was the "deep end" of the kiddie pool, but the water is still deep enough to swallow my son whole. Thankfully, James was close behind Noah - I don't think his feet even hit the bottom of the pool before James plucked him out of the water.

And like the first time he jumped in, Noah wasn't scared - he just wanted to swim.