Nervous-brave that first day, her hands don't come off her ears and I wonder if this'll be a
belly flop. Just one time in the water, BabyGirl, I think to myself. She whispers she's nervous but walks to the edge of the pool anyway.
There's only one other tiny in the water with her, and two sweet I-should-hire-you-to-babysit teenage girls for teachers. She clings to them like life preservers and I watch the grin warm over her face. I know now I can go sit down.
"MOM!! We did STARFISH!" Maybe now we can wash hair in the tub without a therapy session.
She giggles with her girlfriend, and they put their arms around each other as they sit on the side, waiting to jump in.
It's just a week, a crash course of intro to swim lessons. She adores it. Her goggles smoosh her ears out and her tongue is everywhere and her limbs flail and the grin grows. One day she even surprise-splashes her teacher - big - and giggles.
"I want to do swim lessons AGAIN!" And maybe we will.