Fifty-five

Week 3, and I just took Seth to his last swimming lesson in Warrensburg. I was discontent two weeks ago, the first day. Too many kids, not enough instructors, very little actually happening. Last week, slight improvement, willing to keep at it. Today, Seth almost drowned.

Have you ever thought about how things can happen in a "split-second"? Literally, a heartbeat. The blink of an eye. A blind eye on a disinterested swimming instructor who has too many kids in the pool and isn't getting paid enough to be there in the first place. Seth let go of the side of the pool and slipped under. Thankfully, luckily, I was watching him. I had a book in my hands, I hadn't been watching a moment or two earlier, I was reading. Trying to take advantage of five, ten minutes of Seth not tugging on my shirt, needing something. But I was watching then, and was immediately up, on my feet, running to the pool, yelling at the instructors. They finally saw him, noticed, got to him, and he was fine. I waited a minute to be sure he was okay, then sat back down. He finished the lesson, we drove home. It wasn't until we were in the car that I started shaking, feeling sick to my stomach, scared shitless. A split-second. A heartbeat.

What are they called...helicopter parents? Always hovering? I don't want to to be one of those...but it's moments like these where it's easy to see how it comes about, how the impulse is born. Who can you trust but yourself sometimes? Certainly not the Red Cross swimming instructors at the community center in Warrensburg, Missouri.