Rosie

There is something about seeing your child learn to swim that turns the world right-side up. This weekend at the hotel pool Dietrich started doing spin moves under water, the precursor to doing somersaults, the necessary skill to learn a flip turn. The spin moves were his own idea. He ducked his head, swirled his slender arms around and kicked wildly until he came around 360. Big, wet smile.

The water was his first home, along with his brother, but somewhere between his popped out surprise birth and our awareness of water as danger -- especially the tub, and wading pools, even puddles! -- the water became foreign, cold, and threatening. Both boys hated hair washing (still do from time to time) but grew quite happy in the bathtub. They loved washing dishes, playing a fill and pour game they named, "Hotsboiled", and warm, deep baths. Our few visits to the pool as babies and toddlers were fun, though usually cold, outings for all of us. They took lessons this summer and jumped in up to their ankles and played more getting-comfortable-games.

But the past few weeks we've watched a butterfly unfold its wings. Elliott began swimming lessons with a litany of why he didn't want to do the skills. He talked on and on to his teacher and the lifeguard sitting nearby about not jumping in, not putting his head under and not floating and why he wouldn't be doing any of it. But his tears and talk turned to challenge somewhere along the way. The unwillingness of his teacher to accept fear as a good reason not to try clearly helped. But at some point, he had to make the decision. "I am going to come off the stairs, swim out to the platform, and then swim right back." And eventually, he did, he does! Dietrich jumped right in and gathered up skills and ribbons in just weeks. There was the breathing bit, but once he remembered to breath, he has grabbed rings from the bottom, kicked himself on his front and back to the other side (about 10 feet) and rolled right over -- where the idea for the spin moves probably came from.

I remember the youngest swimmer I ever coached. I thought of her today as I beamed watching Dietrich make it to the other side on his back, on his own. Rosie was just 5 when she started swim team. She was built strong but had a sweet demeanor more her age. I would forget she had not yet finished Kindergarten because she swam with grace, and as fast as kids twice her age. What I remembered about her today was her mom. She always brought her daughter over to the lane with a mysterious smile as if to say, "how is it that my baby is swimming, swimming in races! right before my eyes?" How does that happen? But what joy it brings.