This weekend was packed as usual, most of which I was too engaged in to photograph. One moment I did have to capture was the look on Mateo's face when he finally found the confidence to swim. By himself. Mateo's taken, I don't know how many swim lessons over the course of two summers. I've stood on the sidelines trying to coach him on, encouraging him to let go of the ladder after holding onto it for what seemed like most of the 30-minute class. Pleading, and one time threatening, "You've got to let go or we're leaving right now." It was bad. He's very particular about his teachers. They have to be men. None of us, not even Mateo can understand why. Once, I thought the female teacher who was trying to get him off the pool ladder was going to lose it. Mateo is always very sweet about not wanting to let go. He'll smile and say, "But my mind won't let me," or "I'm thinking about it," (as he points to his head furiously) or "Why is there a thermometer in the pool?" It tested my patience to the limit and I'm his mom. She kept it cool though, and once the male teacher finally caught what was up and came over Mateo let go. 

So this weekend in the City pool, Matt was coach. At first there was the usual clinging to the ladder, the usual, "You're too far!" But a few minutes later he did it, and then there was no turning back. He kept jumping off the ladder to swim to Matt, then swimming from Matt back to the ladder. Back and forth, back and forth, for what seemed like an hour. Matt, Nico and I were ready to get out of the pool, but there was Teo begging to stay in. He was so proud of himself that he had crossed the burning sands of swim fear that he was giddy the rest of the day. Now, we'll see if he's still on the other side in a couple of days when we're back at swim class. Or if the hand magnets have grown back, attaching him right back to that doggone ladder. I'm keeping hope alive.