Our granddaughter Zoey is 2 years old. I just realized typing this that I am 60 years older than she is (Oy)! That’s a lifetime of flashbacks for me as a mom and many of them are still very, very clear.
On a recent
visit to Florida to see two of our girls – my daughter Allison and her daughter
Zoey – Allison enthusiastically mentioned that I would be going with them to Zoey’s
new swimming class. This is the first time she’d be going in on her own; the
last one was for parents too.
I was
feeling anxious just knowing I would be witnessing this; I pictured Zoey crying
“No, Mommy, No,” and this made me hesitant to want to watch. To prepare Allison
for what I thought might be a realistic outcome, I informed her that Zoey might
not be willing to venture into the pool by herself.
Allison,
however, assured me that she had been talking to Zoey about this for a couple
of days leading up to it and that Zoey does well when she understands what’s
going to happen. In addition, she had just moved up to a new day care class
without tears (other than when she was pushed off a chair by one of the older
kids and hit her head) on her first day, so there was no reason to think this
would be any different.
No
reason?!?! Memories of my kids shrieking when doing all kinds of things that
forced them (and me) to grapple with their independence came racing back to me,
even though I too had explained next steps...or did I not?
When it was
time for Zoey to enter the pool, I could see her arms wrapped around Allison’s
neck. I saw Allison try to put Zoey down – I have variations of this memory x 3
– and it looked like Zoey was digging her feet into her mommy’s torso, holding
on for dear life.
Anticipating
what I was afraid might transpire, I started to cry. Yes, real tears. I was so nervous
for them, and then I became embarrassed for myself. Why was I tearing up?
Watching the kiddies without all the responsibility of being a parent is
supposed to be one of the greatest perks of being a grandparent.
As I sat in
the sea of parents smiling and waving to their happy kids in the water without
them, I was hoping that no one had noticed that very likely the oldest person there
in the swim school at the time had fallen apart.
And then I
saw the unthinkable, in a matter of minutes...Zoey reached for the arms of the
teacher and within seconds was playing in the water. She spent the next 20
minutes splashing around under the protective care of her instructor...all the
while smiling and waving to us.
Was her
willingness to enter the water solo after Allison’s explanation a result of her
genetic make-up, or is it how she’s being raised by her parents?
Who
knows...but I was surely impressed with Zoey’s bravery...wish some of that
would rub off on me!
