I almost forgot to write this down, but it’s a biggie.
When we were at the Holiday Inn Express in North Platte on the way out, Ava and I took a dip in the pool. We’d been promising her she could go swimming, and there were times on the drive when it was the only carrot we could use to get Ava to calm down for another mile.
So as soon as we got unpacked, I took Ava down to the pool. I held her up while she paddled and kicked back and forth, and she loved it. Then she wanted to go jump off the side of the pool and have me catch her, which we did a couple dozen times. Until some bigger kids showed up and started jumping in on their own. I watched Ava watch them, and I could tell what was coming.
“Daddy, I want to jump in by myself.”
“By yourself? You’re sure? You don’t want me to catch you?”
“No.” She shook her head. So I stood back out of the way after putting Ava on the side of the pool. She watched the older kids jump off the edge again, and then she took the plunge herself. I let her drop to the bottom of the pool (about three feet) and then reached down to grab her; she latched onto me immediately. I hefted her back onto the edge of the pool, and she stood there, shaking, a terrified look on her face. Then she reached out and put her arms around my neck. I don’t think she’s ever held me so tightly.
That was the end of the swimming jaunt. I probably should’ve let Ava struggle back to the top of the pool herself, but when she didn’t pop right back up immediately, I worried that she was down there swallowing water.  She seems pretty adamant now that she doesn’t want to jump off the edge of the pool y herself ever again, but I have a feeling I can convince her otherwise if we’re at a place where there are other kids splashing around.