Swim Team Tears

Day 222

Swim team always involves tears.  In five years, I’ve never seen a first practice that didn’t send at least a handful of kids screaming for their moms.  Today is no exception. 

One sweet boy sits on a lounge chair rubbing his head and fighting back tears.  I crouch so I’m at eye-level, “D., what’s wrong?  Are you hurt?” 

“My goggles hurt my head,” he sniffs.  Two perfect ovals of red mark his forehead. 

“Too tight?”  He nods.  “Can I loosen them up for you?”  He reluctantly hands me his goggles to adjust.  “Try them now,” I say, handing them back. 

He looks at them and shakes his head no.  “Still too tight.”  During this exchange, A. who doesn’t swim on the team slides next to his friend.  A push pop in his hand, he’s successfully dug through the swim bag for loose change. 

“You OK?” Lick. Lick. 

I leave the two to talk and step back to join my friend.  A. runs past with a second lollipop in his hand.  Just as I’m about to scold him for buying more candy, he hands the lollipop to his friend. 

“Oh,” I turn to my friend.  “I wasn’t expecting that.  Good thing I didn’t yell at him.”