I think I do what most moms do: I set high expectations, push for excellence, and shower praise. Things were done a bit differently when I was growing up, and my parents’ chosen message was diluted a little between six of us kids. Now, with my son, I sometimes wonder if I push too hard or expect too much.

We waited a little too long to start swim lessons. I know, I know. We live in Florida and not knowing how to swim is simply dangerous. But we don’t have a pool, and frankly, I am so comfortable in the water, the idea of Jake having any fear never really occurred to me. But I recently realized how afraid he was.

No worries, easily fixed. We joined our local YMCA, and enrolled Jake in the swim lessons. I was optimistic, and sat on the pool deck with the other moms, dutifully watching and encouraging on cue. Then it was Jake’s turn to get in the water. One splash and he yelled across the deck, over the heads of toddlers, his voice piercing the summer day, “Mom! This is the worst day of my life!”

I hate that I shrank down on the deck chair. I hate that he actually embarrassed me that day. His awkwardness in the water had taken me by surprise. But so resolved was I to banish this fear, that doubled up on my efforts. Not only would we take lessons, we would swim several times a week. I would work with him. Splash him, plunge him, float him, whatever it took to break through.

This went on for six weeks. We made a little progress, sure, but after that all that time, he was still afraid. When put in the pool, he turned into a different child. A tentative, death-gripping, frightened child. I had never seen him like that.

So I found a private instructor. This woman is a Pied Piper of swim instructors. In one lesson, she has figured out how to reach in and touch his fear. She gets him. And as far as Jake’s concerned, he’s made a new friend for life.

I suppose all of this is relatively uneventful in the big scheme of things. Jake’s making progress. He’s facing his fears, and he’s going to be a great swimmer soon.

But then what I asked of him has hit me. I had demanded that a five year old confront a gripping fear and overcome it. Do it. No options for failure. No escape hatch.

And then I wondered if I could have done the same.

This little event has added some perspective to my expectations of this malleable, impressionable little man. It’s added a dimension of empathy and understanding. What fears have I excused myself from addressing? How have I opted out when I didn’t want to face my fears?

This little man faced his, and you know what? He’s winning.