Yesterday Brooke and I went swimming for the first time this summer. She was so excited to go. She wanted her kitty "Higgaro" to ride along, but she knew he couldn't swim with us. She held my hand as we walked in, and she asked me to carry her for part of the way. We put our beach bag down next to our shoes. I placed her tiny purple crocs on the soles of my flip flops.
When we first dipped into the indoor pool she clung to me with excited laughter. She made it clear that she did not want to get her head wet. She rode piggy back around the pool and held on to me. Joy radiated from her face, and I felt she would be happy in this moment for a long time. She looked tiny compared to all the other kids there, with her bright tutu swimsuit she had personally picked out at Walmart. As we moved from the indoor pool to the outdoor one, we stopped to share an ice cream bar. We both liked pinching off the cold chocolate shell to eat. She accidentally knocked over my drink but I didn't care. We headed into the outdoor pool and she again clung to me, a welcome reassurance to me that she is still my little girl. I promised myself that I would remember this moment forever, when she was brave enough to get in the water but still needed her mommy's presence. She practiced kicking her legs, and she marveled at the kids who were swimming.
I eventually urged her to try the splash kiddie pool. She was intrigued by one of the sprinklers, and she ventured off to play with some other kids there. I watched her, smiling, as she skipped in the water and dipped her hat in the pool. For another hour it seemed, she was having too much fun to even notice where I was sitting.
When it was finally time to go, she fought me as usual. I carried her for part of the walk back to the car, and the other part she walked. She fell asleep on the way to get the Sonic chocolate milk I had used as a bribe to get her to go. We got home and her daddy laid her down in her bed. I fell into a heap on the couch and grinned. It was a good day.
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