My daughter started swim lessons young, so young I had to get in the pool with her. Every time, it was the same. We faced cold water and a fussy baby. Either me or my wife ended up soaking wet, coaxing her along.
Then one day, the teacher said, “She’s moving up. You don’t need to get in anymore.” It hit me like a brick. That messy, irreplaceable act was done—for her, in that moment, forever. Time had moved on. I definitely did not cry then or now, years later, writing this (*lying).
It’s parenting in a nutshell. Every stage—good, bad, or soggy—ends, often without warning. Like the last time you play with childhood friends, oblivious it’s over until it’s actually over.
Every tantrum, every cuddle, every pool day has an end date. Knowing that and keeping it front of mind just keeps us sharp. It pushes us to be the best we can while it lasts. Because one thing is for certain: nothing lasts forever.
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