So there I was, taking number one son to his swimming class. This class is run by the county and relies on volunteers to help the kids with everything from proper swimming stroke mechanics to the more basic “don’t drown in this, it’s wet” kind of instruction. As we approach, the guy in charge waves to number one son, and turns to an older gentleman. As my son is sitting himself down by the side of the pool, I hear the guy running the class ask the older gent if he’s worked with my son before. He then starts in telling him a little of what to expect, where he’s at with the whole “don’t drown” thing, and so on.
Meanwhile, I glance back to the pool, and number one son has already entered the pool, swum over to a volunteer, and introduced himself. He’s clearly decided which volunteer he’s working with today. Have I mentioned that he’s seven years old? Anyway, he went straight to the one who looks the most like Angelina Jolie with pigtails.
That’s my boy.