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As I’ve mentioned, Sunny has been very timid and cautious when it comes to water and her bodily person. Other people’s persons? Well, she has no qualms about recommending James leap into a lake with Courtland attached to his hip. No fear that her baby sister may not want to “go in the deep” or “put her face in the water” much like herself.

Due to this aversion, she has spent the majority of the summer in the shallow shores of the lake or ocean, or huddled on the steps of the pool. She will not wet her head, let alone submerge herself. And forget about trying to carry her out to where her feet can no longer touch the bottom. THE DEEP! It’s a terrible, horrible place.

In fact, when James informed her that she would be in “deep” trouble if she threw the tennis ball in the house one more time, she looked over at him in horror and declared, “But I don’t want to go in the DEEP! I don’t want to go under the water.”

The preschool mind is an amazing, maddening thing that can provide such comic relief, which I suppose is why the human race endures beyond age three. I can see no reason otherwise.

But I digress…

And so, our summer has been fraught with much unproductive cajoling, bribing and coaxing. That is, until two weeks ago, when, I strapped a life jacket on Sunny, threw her in my arms, and leaped into the lake before she could get a word in edge wise. When we surfaced, her face was a mixture of terror, shock, and utter elation. Fortunately, the joy beat out all those other pesky emotions, and we found her interested in jumping in again and again, increasingly without our assistance.

And I don’t have proper language to describe what if felt like to watch my little girl leap from the edge of that dock into the deep while Mommy and Daddy sat on dry land. I don’t know a greater source of pride than witnessing your own child overcome a fear that felt insurmountable, nor a more bitter pill than the knowledge that she can tackle such fear without you. Once again that tension that defines every moment of parenting bubbles to the surface, tethering you to the moment and making you feel more alive and present than you ever knew was possible.

And don’t you just adore James’ loving “1-2-3, WEEE! Good Job!” He’s perfected his Daddy voice, and I hope that one day the girls will understand how lucky they are to call that papa their own.