Yesterday, my kid took me tubing for the first time. Which is really just skimming and bouncing on the top of the lake at very high speeds. She’d done it a dozen or so times before. Me… not so much. Okay, okay. Not at all. Not ever.
I lived in Florida my whole life (until 2 years ago), and I swear I never experienced Florida the way my kid does. She loves boats, tubing, kayaking. She really embraces lake life, mosquitos and all. Before I met Simon’s family, I could count on one hand the times I’d been on a boat. Jane’s been on the boat more times that that in the month of June alone. So, yeah… Florida’s real, real different for her than it was for me.
Back to the tube…
We’re sitting in this contraption that is more cushy lounge chair than tube. Simon assures me that Jane and I are NOT going to fall out. But we take off and suddenly it feels like we are flying across the water. I’m giggling maniacally and at the same time muttering “Shit. Shit. Shit.” under my breath. Jane looks… I don’t know… amused? Terrified? I can’t tell.
She leans closer to me and says, “It’s a little scary sometimes.”
Now I’m all Mama Bear. “Are you scared?” I ask, fully intending to make them slow this shit down so the baby isn’t scared.
“Mommy,” she says sternly. “I’ll worry about me. YOU worry about yourself.”
Well, there’s a life lesson if I ever heard one.
My water-buddha-guru kid eyes me, sizes me up, and says: “Mommy. If you start to fall off, just let go. It’s so much better that way.”
When did this kid get so wise? And so grown. She can really handle herself around the boat (and the archery set, for that matter) in a way that impresses the hell out of me. I admire her confidence and her independence.
Later on, Jane told Simon that she doesn’t want to tube with me any more. BUMMER. Bu, apparently, I bring her down with all my worrying. Touché, small person. Touché.
I’m going to work on letting go. It’s so much better that way.