Here’s an article in Beacon Press’s blog about Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps’s mom

When my son Robert was 8 or so, I saw him do a one-handed pull-up on some
bars by the pool and took a look at his lats and said “Backstroker” or maybe
“Chimpanzee.” I never was really sure.

He made pretty good progress through swimming lessons at the Y and did
pretty well on swim team. But he never had the superstar talent or
fanatical love of swimming it’s supposed to take to become a superstar.
If I had dreams of making my fame and fortune off of him, there’s still
time. Maybe he can become a porn star.

I got what I wanted. If he fell into he water, chances are he won’t drown,
and he enjoys swimming and water skiing.

And he became a good man. A man with the clearest sense of right and wrong
I’ve ever seen.

My other son Patrick is also a good man, a kind man, who married way above his station, and if he keeps working, he’ll be my son the doctah (EdD).

I think I did pretty well. So did Debbie Phelps.