Sitting on some uncomfortable bleachers, wishing I had brought some kind of back support, I watched my youngest son swim laps with his class in Lawrence, MA, this past week. He has received swim instruction here for seven years. I don’t even have to tell them he has special needs because they are so good with every child. I’m convinced the program manager can see directly into the heart and inner workings of each child within the first few minutes. She has an amazing ability to meet each child where his or her fears are and identify strengths and weaknesses. She knows what is holding them back.
As I sat there in this rare moment observing Little Man at one of his happiest places—water—I wondered if I could get away with a few glances here and there to my Kindle. I thought I was being so sly, looking up whenever I anticipated it was his turn to work on a skill in a group of five children. My timing was almost perfect.
Lifting my eyes after reading a half-page, I noticed something I wasn’t expecting this time around: Even at 10 years old, becoming more independent by the minute, my Little Man
still looks for me!
After every accomplishment, he wanted to emerge from the water to meet my eyes. He counted on my silent nod, my approving smile—even my admiration.
And I asked myself this question: Read the rest of this entry »