Swim Lesson #2 - How My Mom Card Got Revoked

Saturday morning we arrived for swim lesson #2 and little did we know the hell fire and brimstone we would endure over the next hour. We arrived all eager beaver. Ready to go. We were stoked.And let me tell you, it was like a new child. It appeared we had said goodbye to the timid, skeered, child that was allergic to water last summer and we now welcomed with open arms this new brave aqua baby.

This child had form- he was kickin, and blowing bubbles...

He was like Michael Phelps -- minus the illegal drugs -- but other than that, just like him.

So I looked down on him as a proud mother and said, "Baby Twerp you are doing so well we are gonna advance you and take you to the deep in."And he looked at me and said, "What you talkin bout Willis?"And with that I turned him lose to his swim coach to push him and further his obvious natural swim talents.

But as soon as Baby Twerp got to the point where his feet no longer touched, he freaked out. And by freaked out, I mean went nine kinds of crazy and by went nine kinds of crazy I mean need medical attention psycho. And by need medical attention psycho, I mean he flipped out...coo coo coo coo.But seriously, all he needed was to be pushed a little. Once he had a taste of security and success he would be fine. Everything was gonna be alwwwwiiiittte. Just fine. Easy. Eaaaassssyyy.So his sweet precious and patient coach who HAS NO CHILDREN came and got BT and began to ease him out into the water....in which HE flipped out.

But sometimes you just need to be forced before you can feel okay. Right?I thought once he got to the other side he would be fine, but oh how so wrong I was. Oh how so VERY wrong I was. Oh how so very very VER-EE wrong I was.....in some bad dash of fear and genius - BT swung his body over his coach and attached himself....

to the back of his coach, and he was not letting go.

No siree Bob. Not even a little.So instead of fightin it, Swim Coach God From Heaven Above worked with it --
Just decided to go with the flow.

Work around it.

Just pretend like there was no screaming 3-year-old terrified out of his mind attached to his back. No biggie. It would surely pass -- fade away. So let's check back ten minutes later.But the wails got louder and louder. Let's try 10 minutes LATER...And the screams turned it to high pitched shrills. And soon it was an all out gnashing of teeth as the flames of hell began to lap at BT's ankles, or so he felt.

BT knew he was gonna die. A slow, painful wet death. So I looked at the coach and told him to give it one more try -- and he did.And it made no difference.

So I walked out to get him -- to save him from the injustices of life. To make sure he was not permanently scared from his 30 minutes of fear and trepidation.

And I kid you not, as soon as this kids got in my arms...the transformation began.

He was fine. No tears. No fit. No fears.

So I picked him up and asked, "BT how was it, you seem okay now. Are you ready to try it again next week?"That is when he whispered ever so softly in my ear, "I'm pullin your mom card."

Whatever. We will be back next Saturday. Suck it up. Walk it off.