The girls started a two week, five-day-a-week, swim class today and I had yet another demonstration about how very different they are. We talked a little about the pool and how this time, they wouldn't be in the same class and Lily took Anya by the hand and told her if she got scared, she could come over to her for a hug. They were very sweet, very excited and totally on board about how AWESOME it would be.
Then we got there and I thrust them into the very capable hands of the instructors and, GASP!, walked away.
Anya spent a couple moments off to the side looking nervous. One of the instructors came over, said a few words to her and offered a hand. She tucked her tiny fingers into the woman's palm and followed her to the pool, quickly adjusting and before long, bouncing around, not paying attention with the rest of them.
Lily? Lily burst into loud, desperate sobs. That kid feels things. Deeply.
I went and talked to her, which actually helped, and then walked her to the edge of the pool and GASP! walked away again. She was OK but had to be forcibly put into the pool. She was willing to work a little with an instructor but before the class was over had desperately tried to climb out and been put back in a handful of times before they gave up and let her sit at the edge. I was just feeling proud that she hadn't run screaming from the pool area. Hey, it's something, right?
Truth be told, this is how she reacted to her first class last year. This is how she reacts to MOST new things. PANIC is her middle name. But then she settles in, chills out and it turns out to be the best thing ever.
Here's hoping that's the case this time.