We took the kids to Sentosa over the weekend, to the new Port of Lost Wonder attraction. The wife was very happy there was something the whole gang could enjoy and Faith, my oldest one, with autism, loves water.
I was nursing a flu so it was decided earlier that I would not go into the water. My job was to hover at the edge of the water, while the helper went into the water with the kids. The wife watched over the bags in the shade.
As the children ran through the pirate ship, the centerpiece of the attraction, playing with water guns and splashed by fountains, my helper told me she needed to change into something more suitable for the wet conditions.
So I took over watching over the kids, especially Faith, as she went to change.
For the first few minutes, I had my special eleven-year-old in my sights. She was enjoying herself, and splashed water in various spots, as if looking for a favorite play area.
Then for a split second, I lost sight of her in the crowd of kids. My heart stopped as I scanned the water and playing children.
I did not worry too much about Isaac and Joy, though they were younger, because they knew not to talk to strangers or wander away from the designated play area. But Faith, she did not have that sense of danger and could leave the pirate ship and go where she fancied.
I was about to enter the play area fully clothed, getting wet be damned, when I found her 10 seconds later, at the other side, sitting down in the pool. It was the longest 10 seconds I've ever experienced.
Soon after, my helper returned to take over watching over Faith and I walked back to the wife for a drink of water.
"I almost lost Faith for a moment there," I said.
"I know," the wife said.
"You saw?"
"I was tracking Faith the whole time too, from here," the wife replied. "I could even see the frantic look on your face," she laughed.
It was at that moment I was reminded that we are partners in this, my wife and I. We are in this together, raising the kids, watching over Faith, covering for each other.
My wife, she has my back. And I have hers.
