The past five days have been miserable in this house. I've had the crapiest flu I've had in forever (the full on Influenza A one). My days have been spent coughing up my lungs, blowing the heavens through my raw nose, passing out every few hours and somehow trying to feed and look after Fletch in between. As I said, miserable. Let's not even talk about it.
It's basically the middle of summer here again. Except it's not. It's still Spring. We've got 30+ degree days and 75%+ humidity. C'mon. That is hot. It is so summer.
To get some relief from the heat, we took Fletch for his first swim down at the beach one morning the week before last. He cried and cried for the first few minutes, then sure enough, he started getting used to it. Perhaps even enjoying it! The water may have been a little cold for his first swim but snuggling up with him in his beach towel afterwards was such a good feeling. My heart seriously melted. Is there anything cuter than a baby in a beach towel? We backed it up with another swim a few days later in the baby pool at the cricket club, a far more appealing place for him to hang out and get comfortable in the water than the, let's be honest, questionable waters of the South China Sea.
We've got swimming lessons starting at the club in a few months when he cracks the big six (seriously, where does the time go?). Phil and I love our swimming and grew up as water babies ourselves, so it's really important to us that Fletch gets in early and is really comfortable and confident in the water. I am so pumped. Little bubs, in little swimmers, bobbing around in the water? Snuggles in towels afterwards?
Stop me now.