For the past two weeks, we have been corpulent couch potatoes from early in the morning, hooked on the Olympics, and watching Canada take fourth in everything including rock-paper-scissors.

Jon is patient, but isn’t entirely hooked. Until…diving. Diving is his opiate. Synchro or individual, tower to 3 metre. It even trumps the Weather Network. I had assumed–given the visual issues–that beyond the general concept of the water and the movement of the athletes, the sound of the splash was the big attraction. But he’s taken to muting the TV and (ok, at first at my suggestion) hollering “SPLASH!”, so it’s not a necessity.

Beyond that, unlike his mom and dad, it inspires him to go out into the world and DO. We’ve gone to Grandma and Grandpa’s pool the past couple of days and Jon has done a lot of diving. It’s tricky to set him up, but he loves it, even the belly flops! Wow.