Colin’s sense of adventure and risk has certainly been affected by his broken leg. My fearless guy has, over the past few weeks, had to be coaxed back into a lot of activities — going to the park, bike riding, but especially swimming. Granted, a lot of two year olds suddenly grow adverse to water, but his terror was so out of character. Nothing like taking a beach vacation and having your kid screaming and clinging every time you try to go near the water. I sat baking on the sand with him, watching Tom and the other kids enjoy the waves, because of course he was terrified whenever I went into the water, too. I brought him buckets of water to play in. I made castles with moats. I pointed out all the toddlers enjoying the water around us. I sat in an inch of water until my hind end was raw. Finally, after multiple tries, I got him to lie on his stomach in a puddle at the edge of the beach and splash a little. I was feeling pretty good about my applied efforts when one of Colin’s uncles showed up, put a floaty tube in the water, and called out, “Hey, Col, I’ll give you a ride!” I watched in amazement as Colin shouts, “Sure!” He climbs in the tube and he and his uncle took off for a 20 minute ride out into the deep.
Tom and I exchange a look and he says what has become our standard line about Colin’s behavior. “Clearly, dear, you are the problem.”
More and more, I keep hearing stories of what a different kid Colin is when I am not around. He is more sociable, confident, and basically happier when I am not an option. I am all about the village raising the kids, but it has really gotten to be sort of ridiculous, this Jekyll and Hyde mood swing.
I sighed. “Clearly, I am the problem.” Then I yelled out to Colin’s uncle. “You’re on it, now. Teach him to swim, okay?”
“No problem!”
“Oh, and you can potty train him too, while you’re at it.”