Dreading Water
Written By Joanna Nesbit
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"You can come out or I can pull you out."
Leah screeches again, and I grab her heels, drag her out on her belly, noting with relief that she's got her swimsuit on underneath her clothes. Some part of her wants swim lessons too — or at least knows they're inevitable.
In the car, she reveals the true reason for her aversion: "They'll want me to dunk, Mom, and I won't do it." She's recalling two weeks of lessons the previous summer, when she made little progress and was afraid to put her head underwater. I'm hopeful about the advice I got then from a perky, tanned woman whose boys are accomplished swimmers. "Four weeks," Pool Mom said. "My boys didn't progress until the fourth week." So this year, four weeks it is.
The outdoor pool, 15 minutes from our house, is bordered by hills and giant Douglas firs, full morning sun making the blue water glitter. Smiling teachers in red suits greet new arrivals. Even with kids splashing, it feels peaceful here, uncrowded and friendly. But not, apparently, to Leah, who curls on a deck chair and watches sullenly, the only child not in the water. Another mom cajoles her: "Look at the kids having fun. Don't you want to join them?"
Leah shoots her a withering look. "No."
