I apologize for our lack of blogging. Things have been busy—not nearly busy as we’d like in the freelance world, but that means trying to come up with new projects and getting them going, while keeping all the other balls in the air. Anyway, to the blogging at hand. Here’s a little thing that developed through March, April and May.
Jon doing elementary backstroke with his instructor. He’s becoming a stronger swimmer–Note: no floaties!
Jon goes to swimming lessons at Holland Bloorview Kids Rehab Hospital at various times during the weekends, depending on which class time we manage to get via the lottery. We pretty much always follow the same routine: While getting ready to swim doesn’t take too much longer than for most kids, getting dressed again does. Jon’s usually the only kid at his scheduled time who’s wearing orthotics and in a wheelchair. (Yes, Bloorview is nominally for disabled kids, but not all kids with disabilities are confined to wheelchairs, and to boot the pool & recreation programs are integrated with regular kids in the community.)
So when it’s time to go, we’re usually the last ones out. And what with getting all of Jon’s gear packed up, he usually gets a head start on me out the door. Sure he’s a bit tired, having just done 30 minutes of work in the pool, and he may have to dodge other people in the tight surroundings of the changeroom doorway. But once he gets out of the changeroom, it’s a wide-open space to the elevators back up to the lobby. And what with his new school and hormonal teenage attitude, he’s got a little more confidence: He makes a break for the elevators. And if he gets lucky, in the 20 or 30 seconds it takes me to pack up, he’s found himself a ready elevator and he leaves without me.
It’s happened four or five times now, and he’s pretty much figured it out. By the time I get to the main floor, he’s waiting for me, or just getting out (I tend to be moving fast by that point; he’s in less of a hurry). There has been one time that I got to the main floor and he wasn’t there; I waited about 45 seconds before an elevator opened and voila, there he was. I figure his delay was probably that he didn’t press the elevator floor button hard enough. But who knows? Maybe he went on a reasonable short adventure. We can’t begrudge any teenager that.