I cringed as I watched my seven-year old struggled through his swimming lesson. Come on Mik, just put your head under the water already! I screamed inside. I fought back the irritation that was building up inside me as I watched him panic while standing in neck-deep water. Your 4 and 5-year old brothers can hold their heads under water, why can’t you?
My momentary lapse was just that, momentary. I recalled how as a kid I was deathly terrified of water, even though I was surrounded by the lovely beaches of the Caribbean. Panic also set in if the water threatened to pass my chest. Poor Mik was just like his Daddy, unfortunately.
Like Daddy, Mik has always been the best speller and reader in his class. Like Daddy, he was also the class clown. He talks a lot and loves to join adult conversations, just like I did at his age. Unfortunately, he took the good and the bad and got the Facts Of Life. (See what I did there?). Mik hates water just like his wimpy Daddy did. Sorry big guy!
I smiled at Mikhail as he splashed and thrashed his way back to his safe spot to await his next turn. Atta boy Mik! You will be fine. Not one girl ever asked me if I could swim. I realized that being mad at Mikhail was akin to being mad at myself for my own inabilities, for after all, he’s just like Daddy.