Water and I are not the best of friends!
I write two posts lasts Spring about my relationship with water. In the first, I talked about facing my fear of water so that Monkey could enjoy the swimming pool. I admire anyone who overcomes a phobia, I know just how terrifying they can be, how something so ordinary to others, can be such an ordeal. I never scoff at others phobias of spiders, flying etc. In my second post I shared THE bravest thing I’ve ever done (IMHO anyway), when I took part in an undersea walk whilst in Mauritius in 1994. When I could not swim at all.
I may look as if I’m smiling, it was pure terror, trust me, I was shaking like a leaf, when the current wasn’t trying to grab me!
So what could I bring to the table that’s new? Well I guess, the fact that Monkey seems to have no real fear of the water at all – thankfully. He’s not particularly keen on putting his head under the water, and I really, really can’t do that myself with any confidence. But other than that, he seems to be taking after Daddy P. A man who spent his younger days jet skiing from Poole to the Isle of Wight and back regularly. That would be my idea of pure hell.
We took Monkey to Bournemouth last summer, his first time on the beach. He loved it, still talks about it, wants to go back. Today preferably. He wants to get back in the sea, with Daddy P, crashing through the waves, getting wet, turning blue! I wish we could afford a decent holiday, somewhere warm, where he could splash about in the water for hours without catching pneumonia. I wish I could get his father to take a holiday, two weeks, two weeks by the sea – I can dream.
But for now, when I think of water, it’s less about me and my personal feelings and more about Monkey and his joy of being in it, his love of the waves, splashing, having fun, just as ir should be. Water, I’m so glad Monkey likes you more than I do!