For six months I took Rose to once a week swim class and spent the entire time entertaining David in the locker room, at the basketball court, on the playground . . .everywhere but in the bleachers watching Rose, so I had no idea what she was up to. I still pictured her as the crying three year old who was terrified to put her face in the water.

That vision wasn't pushed much aside as we started our round of summer swim classes last week and she clung to me and said the class was going to be too hard. David happened to also be clinging to me and insisting he wasn't going in the water. See Mommy stress out. I went in with David and when I wasn't trying to convince him this was fun, fun, fun, I got to watch Rose.

She can swim. She has a beautiful stroke. She can turn to the side (albeit all the way so she's pretty much belly up) and she can swim all the way across the width of the pool in the deep end. She's got a back float going on, and over the course of the week she got up her courage to jump, nay dive, into the deep end. She's still not going off the blocks, but hey they intimidate me.

Of course, I'm not ready to leave her unattended in the pool, but frankly, I can't catch her when she jumps in the deep end. (Those memories of having to hold both her hands and never let her face touch the water as she jumped are still so vivid.) Good thing she can swim.