The Leisure Centre where the boys are having swimming lessons has a giant inflatable shaped like a crocodile. It runs almost the length of the pool. The life-guard helps the children get on by pushing them over the gap on a floating mat. Then they slip and slide along, over and under and round various obstacles before climbing up and then sliding down with a splash into the deep end. On Monday there were some teenage lads joining in the fun and it made it more exciting and difficult to get along the cocodile as it was shook and wobbled.
I didn't see what happened, but after my middle son's first go he fished himself out of the water and hurried past me on his way to the learner pool. Seeing the look on his face, I asked him what was wrong. 'I always knew it was rubbish,' he told me, scowling but clearly holding back the tears, and jumped into the warmer water. After enough time, he came back to me and told me sadly that he'd fallen off and that it was too hard. I enquired whether he'd like another go and, somewhat hesitantly, he decided to give it a try. Second time he made it all the way over and after that he couldn't get enough!
I know that for myself, there is a time between an upsetting incident and the necessary perspective to carry on, in which I need to process what's happened and to deal with the uncomfortable feelings. So often, in my desire to support, love, help and sometimes downright control my children I stomp all over their moments. Yet, when I manage not to and when I trust them enough to work it out for themselves, they do.
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