Misplaced Belief

When Connor was just under 3 years old, he fell in love with the idea of the diving board. When he learned he needed to be able to swim to go off the diving board, he promptly began teaching himself to swim. It was a ludicrous goal, for sure, but he went on to take actual swimming lessons for a few weeks, and got himself cleared for the diving board. It would be almost a full year before he would actually take the plunge.

Following in her brother's footsteps, Helen has now decided that she would like to swim. Only, always a bit more confident than she should be, Helen has decided that she can swim. In her mind, the only thing holding her back are my and Ed's arms, which seem to always be in the way.

A week ago, we went swimming at the local high school. Connor spent his time paddling around, lamenting the fact that the diving board wasn't open, and generally having a ball. (Note to everyone - FIVE ROCKS!) Helen spent her time pushing off the wall and "swimming" as far as she could. At one point, she clung to the side of the pool and commanded "back up, no, farther, GO FARTHER!" and I would timidly step back a few more inches, praying that she would decide I had moved far enough. Of course, I knew I was too far.

Helen pushed off the side, wiggled her arms, gyrated her body like some sort of half paralyzed sea creature, until eventually I scooped her out of the water after what I thought was about how long she could hold her breath. Rather than thanking me for saving her life, Helen scolded:

"I do not need your help! Do not help me. I believe I can do it myself. DO NOT TOUCH ME!"

So...next week, when I fail to pluck her out of the water, and the coroner declares her dead by drowning, and wonders why I was just a few feet away, I'm wondering if the excuse "well, I guess she just had a little too much faith in herself" will keep me out of the big house.

Elaine