Going It Alone...

Ever since Mason was a baby, he has loved the water. From a very early age, he loved taking baths, and he has always loved to swim....in the kiddie pools...where his feet can touch the bottom, that is. Because in addition to his great enthusiasm for swimming, he has also always had a very healthy respect of the water--which equals fear of the deep (and by "deep" I mean 4 feet.) So last summer I signed him up for his first swimming lessons so that he could gain more confidence in the water. He did well, although he vehemently refused to do half of the things his teacher wanted him to do. And when Matthew and I took him swimming, if he couldn't touch the bottom with his own two feet, he clung to us like a little leech! And forget about "the noodle"! No way was this kid going to let his fate lie in the hands of a one-dollar, long, skinny, tube-like floaty! So that being said, he stunned us when, this past weekend at a friend's birthday swim party, he decided that he wanted to get in the pool on his own. He then proceeded to pull out every life jacket and floaty that we own, and outfit himself in all of them. Slowly and hesitantly he got into the water until the steps became deep enough that his assortment of floating apparatus took over. He then began to splash and kick around, hollering to us over on the side, "Look at me! I'm swimming! I'm swimming!" I truly believe that he could've had bricks tied around his feet and he still would not have gone under for all the floatation devices that he was wearing. But nevertheless, HE was swimming, and HE was doing it by himself! As I watched him for nearly an hour, I didn't know whether to chuckle at him, or shed a tear of pride for my son who, just 8 months ago would not have gotten into that 4 feet of water without my hands being on him at all times. And it warms my heart to think about, as mothers, how much we take delight in the great victories of our children...no matter how small those victories may be.