My little toddler, Liam, loves the water. And it scares me.
The kid has no fear.
The other day we went to the river for a swim.
He walked down the grassy slope, walked across the sand, stepped into the water and just kept walking and walking… all the while looking out at the horizon with glassy eyes.
I followed closely behind him, with my camera around my neck, shouting, “YO LIAM! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
He just waded and waded – without looking back at me – until the water touched his chin.
Then he just stopped. And stood very still.
I was an arm’s reach away from him, but I just waited to see what he was doing.
It looked like an incredible moment.
What is my kid feeling right now?
He looked like he was playing out a movie scene where a person goes for a peaceful and tranquil swim in the ocean, signifying a watershed moment, of freedom, of cleansing, and savouring every precious detail and sensation of the moment – the bubbles tingling over the skin, the clicking sounds of the sea, the soft ebb of the waves.
But after a few moments, he turned around and said, “Did a wee mum”
“Ok.” I said.
And he returned to the shore.