So, here's a little story about a protective mother and her baby.
Once upon a time, in land far away (or near, depending on where Indiana is in relation to you) there was a mother. Let's name her Lynn. Lynn took her baby boy, who was really four and kinda big for his mother to still call him a baby, to swimming lessons.
Will, the boy, did a great job. He swam. He jumped in. He went under. He was practically Nemo, but without the whole getting lost and gimpy fin parts. Lynn beamed proudly from the stands (which could also be interpreted as "read her book while occasionally glancing up to make sure Will was alive). Then, she saw that Will was sucking his thumb. That was a gesture that only occurred when Will was tired, sick or scared. Lynn's head perked up like a meerkat doing whatever meerkats do when their heads perk, and she watched closely.
Will and his class marched on the side of the pool down the deep end. "A HA," Lynn thought in her infinite wisdom. "Will is afraid." You see, during Will's last session of swimming lessons, he was quite petrified of the deep end and the 4-foot high spring boards that stretched over the black abyss. Soon, Lynn's theory was confirmed as Will's terrified shrieks and frightened wails drifted up to the bleachers. Lynn did was Lynn does when confronted with a dilemma. She called her mom.
Lynn explained the scenario to Sharon, going play by play as Will panicked and then was soothed by the swimming instructors. Initially, Lynn assumed that she should watch and wait and see how these pool pros (aka teenage swim teamers) handled the meltdown. Then Lynn watched in horror as Will's teacher carried his screaming, flailing body back to the deep end, and up the rungs of the high dive ladder. "What the [crap] are they doing now?" Lynn thought although the word crap was inserted where other more colorful words may have initially appeared. Sharon confirmed her fears by saying "GO GET HIM" when his screams were loud enough for her to hear... not over the phone... but all the way downtown in Sharon's office.
Lynn stood up, her Super Mom cape blowing in the breeze. "I WILL GET MY SON" she declared as she walked down her aisle and down the steps and GGAHHHHHHHHHHHHH... down she fell like a ton of well oiled bricks on a steeply sloped slip and slide. Luckily, the entire pool area was watching her as she walked, so not a soul in the aquarium missed her acrobatic feats. Then, as she pulled her now wet, poorly chosen skirted ass off the cement floor, she saw that the teacher dropped her baby into the deep end. As he came up he sputtered and shouted the highest pitch screech ever uttered by a two legged creature outside a Sci Fi movie, and the sound was echoed by the now fractured bone and sprained tendon in Lynn's ankle.
So, let that be known to those parents whose children also attend swimming lessons. Just let them go. You'll be of no help to them flat on your ass in a puddle of pool drippings. And when you do get pissed... wait til tomorrow then kick some teenage ass before the class starts... and walk carefully to do it.