As a child, Fridays meant thundering through the door, dumping my school bag by the way side to be forgotten till Sunday late afternoon. It meant spending the rest of the day in the pool and spending the evening catching up on the television for the week. I was not allowed to watch television during the week. All television watching could only be done on the weekend. And to me, Friday was the beginning of the weekend.
It seems that some things don't change. The first day of significance the twins learnt was Friday. That's because they get to do art in school on Friday followed by being picked up by Mommy with Muffin in the back and rocking straight to the club for their swimming lessons. Because we are usually about an hour early for their lessons, it's unadulterated water play. And recently, it has in their opinion gotten better. My work schedule has changed enough such that I go into the pool with them and more often than not, so does Papa.
So, for an hour, they get launched by us, jump fearlessly into our arms not knowing that every time they jump we actually stand further away from the wall, tricking them to swim toward us. And even our little pre-swimmer, Muffin has loads of fun even though his fun is float assisted.
Muffin holds his own against his siblings. When they jump, he jumps. Even without floats, much to my heart-stopping fear. But he has either grown gills or he has learnt very quickly that when submerged, do not drink too much water and break through to the surface as soon as possible.
The reason why we like Fridays is because they are nicely exhausted and ravenous by the end of the swim. I derive perverse joy from watching Muffin inhale shepherd's pie or chicken rice or whatever else we cook for them.
The twins are morose Sunday evening because they know it's a long 5 days before Friday again and there are 5 days of school in between. They are learning joy of Fridays and the blues of Monday even from such an early age.