Your son is better than mine … I get it

I get it, all moms seem to have this desire to share with everyone how great their child is. What I have a problem with are the mothers that find it necessary to tell me that their child is in some way better than mine. If you’ve not yet experienced this, you’re lucky.

Flashback to my son’s first swimming lesson. This is at a point in my son’s life where we have yet to discover that he has a high amount of anxiety about…well, almost everything. He’s probably around three years old. Standing in that extremely hot and humid pool side viewing area, I am beyond thrilled to watch my son embark on this milestone. We’ve been to this pool swimming dozens of times and he loves it.

“Aqua Turtles”, yells the instructor.

I look over and my son is biting his hands, something he has never done before. I walk him over to the class. He starts crying. I encourage him to get in the pool with the class, so he walks down the ramp into the shallow pool. He then has a complete meltdown. The class carries on without him going to the other end, leaving him alone in the pool with no life jacket. So here I am, kneeling at the side of the pool, sweating my ass off, with my butt hanging out the back of my jeans for all the other moms to see, demanding that he gets out of the pool. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. Now he is hysterical. No one helps. No lifeguard comes. I can’t leave the side of the pool and have no one watching him. I’m now begging him to get out, threatening him, doing everything I can. I am totally unequipped to handle this first time anxiety attack. Eventually a lifeguard comes over and gets him out of the pool.

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