Take swimming, for example. Let's just say that I have no clue how to dive and I still have to plug my nose when I jump in the water, because I never learned the art of breathing out when going under water.
Floating on my back? Forget about it. Not gonna happen.
Clearly, he doesn't have far to go to surpass my swimming abilities.
And, okay, I'll admit it. Graham was just a babe the summer Michael Phelps won a ton of gold medals and always looked adoringly at his mom up the the stands cheering him on. It just so happened that we owned a home with a swimming pool at the time. Obviously, this means I dreamed that my son would someday be an Olympic swimmer someday and he would thank me for getting him started in the water at such a young age (event though I have no clue how to teach him to swim).
Thanks to the help from his teacher (read: not me), he's really getting the hang of it.
And he's enjoying every minute of it.
Who knows? Maybe my Olympic dreams for my kid will come true after all.
What? A mother can dream, can't she?
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