A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hey There!! 

I am onto my third instalment of this story about Myla and her hated swimming lessons, already!  The first instalment is here, and the second is here; should you need to catch up 😉

I decided to elevate the ante a little today: as I have been rolling some easy joining words with my kubes, I thought I’d make my chances of getting harder-to-incorporate stuff greater by using nine instead of five kubes (that is also the number of words I use for my random word poetry)

I did, indeed, get a better mix today:

Bust  Flesh  Science  Etc.  Licks  Or  Flock  Home  Gentle

The next week was even worse. 

This time Myla hurt the knuckles on her left hand, apparently having had a bust up with a rough tile while she was trying to “hold on and push off” the way the instructor had told her to.

I joined her in the changing rooms as she gingerly touched the broken flesh and exclaimed about how sore it was.  This, she said, meant that swimming was definitely not for her.  Her argument went along the lines of there being an invisible force in the water that clearly didn’t like her: “a wave or sumfin, like at the beach…” either that or Rachel’s brother was working some Voodoo science on her “cos he knows I don’t like him”.

I helped her dress, and gathered up the obnoxious amount of paraphanalia her agreeing to step into the water seemed to demand (Peppa goggles, spare ‘wings’, the two towels “in case one dwops on the flo-wa”, etc…).

Back in the car, I tried to persuade her that doing ‘dog-licks’ every two seconds was not going to heal her hand very well, and that a plaster would be a better idea.  Or at least more hygienic.

I watched the startled flock of Starlings nearby take off home as Myla’s less than gentle reply reverberated through the open windows.

Why was I doing this to myself?!

I hoped she’d go to bed early (and her third lesson would pan out much better).

Two more instalments to go…what will the kubes do with Myla and her lesson loathing?! Hit me up tomorrow to find out!

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