This Was Supposed To Just Be A Swim Lesson

We go to the pool this afternoon because Michael wants to learn specific swimming strokes. Tryouts for the local swim team are in two weeks and he wants to see if he can make it. I told him I did not mind him trying out BUT he needed to learn a few fundamentals of at least two strokes (freestyle and backstroke, they are the easiest) before the actual day. I let him play for a little while and then we started the lesson, freestyle first. "Keep your head in the water except to take a breath, Kick mostly from the knee down..not the entire leg, Keep your fingers together, Stop fighting the water and "dance" with the water (I made that up!). Frustration mounted quickly in my big man and he was already complaining of too many things to remember.
Michael: "It is hard to remember all of this"
Me: "If this sort of thing was easy, everyone would do it"
Michael: "I know, I know"
I mustered all the patience I possibly could (which is running in low supply lately) and pressed forward. I was demonstrating, he was emulating and over and over and over we went...... Just as he was about to quit for the day, I demonstrated the way your change direction once you get to the wall. The front flip was all it took to draw his interest back into the lesson of the freestyle stroke. Next, the backstroke. His butt was dipping too much "Get your butt plane with the water". "Reach back and actually try to displace the water with your hand. Your hand has to hit the water with the palm not the side." It was then I realized he was unable to rotate his shoulder in order to make this happen. I guess this is something we will have to work on during the next two weeks. The 'lesson', which is a moniker I loosely attach, lasted about 30 minutes. When Michael and I were wanting to strangle each other....I felt we should stop!!! Good Thinking.
I gave everyone a "we are leaving in five minutes" warning and propped my feet up on a chair. BIG MISTAKE. The next thing I know, Marshall is standing in the pool, screaming his head off. He is obviously in significant pain. I ran over to him and ask what is wrong.....he screams some sort of incoherent babble and points to a wasp floating in the water. That little SOB had stung him. And people wonder why I run away like an idiot from stinging/biting insects. You cannot really tell how bad the swelling is in these picks but if you pay attention you can. (Hint: Ring finger) He cried all the way home, much to my pleasure ;) and of course we caught every traffic light known to man. How in the world does that always happen?