For those of you who aren't aware, my youngest son is a bundle of contradiction. Nine year old Spencer hates to be touched but can't sit next to someone without burrowing into them. He can't walk strait lines but can balance squatted down with his knees against his chin forever... in fact that's the only time he's still. He fights hair cuts because the clippers are too loud but is a drumming fanatic. He can't tell you the name of the person who sat next to him in class today but he (and his photographic memory) will correct anything you say about ocean life, dinosaurs, Pokemon, or superheroes.
Most noticeably he screams in the shower ("water feels like needles") but loves to swim. Last week and this week all three boys have been taking swimming lessons. Spencer loves to splash and is overall fearless in the pool, but I can't say he's an exceptional swimmer. Moving more than a foot or two from the wall, even when his gangly 4 foot something body is just fine in the 3 foot deep water, still seems to cause a bit of panic for him. On more than one occasion he has splashed an instructor in the face as they struggled to help him float. My father-in-law has dubbed him "the flailing duck." But he's always willing to try.
Today, about half way into the lesson, the kids headed around the pool to the deep end... and the diving boards. I watched as the Level 4 kids lined up behind the low dive, Spencer's Level 1 class following suit. Only a few brave souls were willing to try the high dive. Spencer didn't even pause before walking straight to the high dive. I admit, I kind of freaked out. I know my child. This is the one I had to warn the playground ladies about because he thought he could fly when he was younger and would jump off the equipment. I also know he can't really swim and he was planning to jump in the deep end.
I could see his two instructors standing on the other side of the pool, but they might as well have been across the ocean as far as I was concerned. What I couldn't see was the third instructor in the water just under the diving board. Spencer patiently waited his turn and even tried to cheer on the boy in front of him who panicked at the top and climbed back down.
When his turn came he climbed quickly and then began to waddle. There is really no other way to describe it. Walking on the outside of his feet, toes tucked toward each other, and squatted down to maintain his balance, he inched toward the edge with a giant Funoodle safely tucked under his arms. By now, the other moms around me on the bleachers had started to recognize my panic and were watching closely. Giggles arose at his slow motion waddle, but other wise everyone held their breath.
Then he jumped. He stepped off the board and dropped straight down into the water, quickly bobbing back up. The bleachers erupted in cheers as he held tight to that Funoodle and paddled towards the edge, climbing out and running right back to the high dive. That was a great moment for him today, I'm very proud of my Spencer-man. Besides, no one else got cheered!
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