Newmarket Pool, on a Sunday morning
I turn the car left at the lights and start down the narrow street toward our destination. A park and trees on one side. Post-war houses at various degrees of renovation on the other.
As soon as the glistening of the water comes into view, my son in the back seat erupts into excitement with urgent noises and furious pointing. I reply, yes indeed it is the pool, and look ahead to the carpark with a thought that maybe it’s early enough not to be too busy.
How wrong I am. As the carpark comes into view, the kaleidoscope of hundreds of shapes and colours burns into my eyes. “We weren’t the only ones with this idea”, I mutter to no-one in particular. Although my son gives me the quizzical look he often does when he’s wondering how I came to be his father.
It’s already approaching 30 degrees this early in the morning so I scan around in the hope of finding a park in the shade. I can hear Darryl from The Castle as if he’s sitting in the backseat as well, “tell him he’s dreamin’”.
I eventually give up and just take the nearest spot. Then collect my things and walk around the back of the car to find my son trying to unbuckle himself from his seat. A smile comes across my face unconsciously as it’s been quite some time since I was that excited. About anything.
I pick my son up and rest him on my hip as I grab the bag that has everything. 'There’s no such thing as packing light anymore' I mutter to myself as my lower back strains and a ripple of sweat develops on my forehead. Just in time for the quick dash over the hot asphalt toward the pool kiosk.
“One adult for a swim” I say as one of the young staff, dressed in the red and yellow of a lifeguard, eventually hurries over in the middle of making a burnt coffee. I then open the heavy door and the noise hits in an instant. From the crescendo of a 1000 screams and laughter, my son joins in and adds his little bit to the rest of it.
I walk carefully over the wet concrete with no real destination in mind. But thank myself for remembering to put our swimming gear on at home. Making the son wait another few minutes would not have been a wise move. Some put his impatience down to his young age. I put it down to his mother.
An empty patch of grass beckons, roughly 30 metres ahead. My son is almost pushing me away as I carry him though, wanting to get down and join in on all the fun. He’s not making the task of getting there any easier. Not to mention running the gauntlet of kids moving about me, being chased or doing the chasing.
We reach the grass after a duck and a weave and the heavy bag quickly drops off my shoulder. My son hangs on tight this time as I lean down to stretch out a towel. His eyes are darting around the place like pinball machine, taking it all in, all the colour and movement.
I’m eventually free of our possessions and stand him up in front of me. “Do you want to go into the water?” I say and his head nods in exaggerated up-and-downs to the point that his hat falls off. The grin is from ear to ear and his feet are almost dancing. The very definition of anticipation and joy.
Putting his hat back on, I say “OK, lets go!” He runs off with his upper body barely keeping up with his feet. I follow a metre or so behind and find myself having to move into a slow jog just to keep up.
In a few moments he has reached the edge of the pool and steps into the shallow end. I’m quickly behind and pick him up from under the arms and throw his body into the air. A quick catch and his giggles are almost machine-gun-like in sound. The tight lower back is almost forgotten. Almost.
I place my son back down and he starts moving toward one of the slides. I let him go ahead for a bit and immerse myself in the freshness of the water. Just what the doctor ordered for this Dad who probably enjoyed one too many red wines the night before.
Once I come out of the moment, I notice my son has gotten a bit too far away. I’m up and running now trying to make sure I get to him before he reaches the steps to the slide.
“Should be both go down?” I say, and again with the exaggerated nodding. I let him take the steps by himself while hanging behind in case of a slip or a fall. He’s up to the challenge though and turns toward me when he reaches the top. In an instant, his arms are raised and outstretched waiting for me to pick me up.
I do just that and crouch down to take a seat at the top of the waterslide as the water starts rushing past my hips. My son sits neatly in my lap as I look below and make sure there’s no-one at the bottom.
The anticipation in my son is evident as he rocks back and forth trying to get us mobile and down the slide. I chuckle inwardly at the absurdity of it. It’ll take a lot more than that to get my frame moving.
Soon after, I do my own rock forward and we take off together. The walls of the slide are rushing past as we enter the tunnel and darkness takes over. A subconscious “yee hah” comes out of my mouth and I can feel my son tense up as he battles the mix of fear and excitement.
We take the first corner at speed and quicken as the slide gets steeper. This time it’s my son who is “yee-hahing” and I have to duck a little to miss the roof. Another corner and another pickup in speed before the light returns and we come out of the tunnel.
Before I know it, we’re both airborne and momentarily between the slide and the upcoming water. I take a deep breath just as we hit and a splash erupts. I quickly bend over to see my son rubbing the water from his eyes. A manic grin takes hold though, like he’s just had the absolute time of his life.
“Do you want another go?” I ask. The furious nodding appears once again and he motions to the side of the pool. I quickly lift him up over the edge before getting myself out as well. He then reaches up with his hand for mine and we run along together back to the steps of the waterslide.
Him with eyes wide open and a permanent smile across his face. Me pondering whose having more fun, me or my son.
EDM.
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