The Longest Shortest Time

Jumping In

About a month ago another mom and I signed our daughters up for kid-only swim classes, which you can start taking at our Y once you turn three. Sasha and her pal turned three just two days apart, and they had both been in the same mommy & me class for awhile. They were also the only kids in the class who did not seem to want to participate much. No matter how much (or how gently) I’ve coaxed, Sasha will not go under, blow bubbles, or even kick in the pool—though she will do plenty of bubbles and kicking in the tub or at the beach, at the slightest suggestion.

The teacher for the mommy & me class strongly encouraged me and my friend to cut the cords and let our kids jump in momless, assuring us that the girls would do more if we weren’t in the water with them. I agreed with her, but still, it felt like a big deal. Like, a bigger deal than leaving her at school for the first time when she was 18 months old. I wanted to make sure Sasha was up for this. So on registration day, over squeezy yogurts and dried string beans, the other mom and I asked the girls if they’d like to take swimming together without moms next time ’round, and the answer from both of them was an emphatic yes. That settled it.

Then, one day, I was flipping through the Y catalog and discovered that in order to take the Starfish class, one must be potty trained. Sasha is not. We have made several attempts in several different ways. But it always comes down to, she just doesn’t want to yet. Which has always been fine with me. Until I found out that she might not be able to take this class with her friend, who is very definitely potty trained. I started to freak out and increased the potty pressure. And at first Sasha seemed to want to make that transition, asking to sit on the potty frequently—but still always actually going in her diaper. I started asking her to try when we were out of the house. At school, at music. At school she obliged. But at music she threw herself on the floor and refused. “C’mon, you just need to try,” I said, probably too forcefully. Which was met with a screaming fit and later a throwing of musical instruments and dumping out of a box of raisins and an abrupt taking home of the toddler to cool down in a safe environment. And that was the end of that round of potty training. I apologized to Sasha for pushing her and told her I knew she’d try again when she was ready. I also told her the reason I was pushing was because I was worried they might not let her take the swim class if she was in diapers. We agreed that we would go to class on the first day and see what they said.

What they said was . . . nothing. Even with the bright blue swimmy diaper clearly sticking out of her cherries tankini. Thank goodness.

But let’s back up. Day one of the class rolled around. And while we were eating lunch, Sasha started sobbing. “You’ll be in the pool too, right Mommy?”

“No, baby,” I told her. “It’s a class for just kids, remember?”

“I don’t want to go,” she said, sliding off her stool and landing firmly on the ground.

“Here’s the deal,” I told her, thinking fast. “You don’t have to go in. You can sit on the bench for as long as you want. But we are going.” I had no idea if this would work, but I was trying to strike a balance between giving her the space to be independent and also the space to back out if she really wasn’t ready. It was okay with me if we had to go back to mommy & me classes. But I didn’t want to take this opportunity away from her if it turned out all she needed was a little nudge. Secretly, I honestly thought she’d wind up backing out, but I wasn’t 100% sure.

Miraculously, she got in the car with no protest. She got in her suit with no protest. She walked through the door to the pool with no protest. And when it came time to sit on the side of the pool, she sat solemnly on the bench. I watched from the window, unable to hear what was going on. Only seeing that while the other kids leaped into the pool and did laps with the teachers, Sasha remained planted on that bench. Every time a teacher invited her to join them she’d shake her head no. Oh well, I thought, it was worth a shot. Back to mommy & me next week.

But then I saw a teacher ask Sasha a question and gesture over to the pool steps and suddenly Sasha nodded her head yes and hurried to join the group. At that point all of the other moms (and one dad) watching the class knew the story with Sasha, and all of us started cheering. When it was Sasha’s turn to swim she walked slowly down the steps, launched herself into the teacher’s arms, and did something she never ever did with me in the pool: she kicked. It was truly amazing to watch. Seriously, one of the most thrilling moments of my life. And funnily enough, one of the teachers was the same one I talked about in the intro to this post about observer learning. Which just goes to show, a teaching style that doesn’t work for a baby could be just the thing for that same kid when she turns three.

It’s tough to know how much to push and how much to step back, and I’m finding that the recipe proportions can be different for each stage and each skill. For sleep, for example, Sasha thrived when we let her cry it out. With breastfeeding, she very clearly told me when she was ready to stop. With the pool, giving her a little push was what she needed. And with potty training? Looks like I’ll need to step waaaay back on that one. (More on our attempts and the . . . er, artwork, that has come out of those efforts soon.)

What about you? Do you find that your kids need different techniques for different forms of independence? Or is your child more consistent with their needs?