On the Inside, Looking Out

We had an interesting experience last month. Both my kids were splashing about in family the pool at our gym. I was watching from a chair in the sun, trying to avoid coming down with a cold. My daughter has been taking lessons, and while not yet truly swimming, she is confident and can dog paddle. James is very tall for his age, and so can safely walk across the shallow ends of the pool.

He loves to be in the pool, jumping about on the stairs and "monkeying" along the wall. If I get in the pool with the kids, they both love to climb the ladder at the deepest part of the pool and fling themselves off the edge. My daughter can now go solo. James still does not want his head wet, and leaps into my arms.

So there I was, watching them play in the pool at the gym. I noticed a young girl in full street clothes approach the pool and stare intently at my daughter and some other people in the pool. Then she started to jump up and down. And flap her hands. And do some verbal stimulation that did not include words. She circled the pool, doing this for a good 15 minutes. She was with her family and they all seemed to be enjoying a summer afternoon around and in the pool.

James did look up at her several times, but then went back to what he'd been doing, which was engaging in water fights with his sister (something new this summer; usually he hates being even splashed with water).

This is what really struck me: here I was, sitting outside on the deck, watching my kids in the water, doing their thing. I'd turned from a water-loving participant into a dry-dock watching mom. James was checking out airplanes up in the sky, my location, and what his sister was doing while trying his best to share the water with his neighbours. He was inside, looking out. I found that different, yet satisfying.