Gymnastics

Last year, Anna took dance class from Jan through June. She liked it for the most part but it wasn't something she really asked to do or even asked much about. Some days were easier than others to rush home, squeeze her into her tights, and get over to class by 6:30 on Wednesdays, and frankly it stressed my schedule too. By the time the season ended, I was glad and she was indifferent. We had decided we were not enrolling her into anything again until she was old enough to decide what it was she did want to participate in.

Lately she's been going around the house, "Watch ME, mommy and daddy!" while attempting cart wheels, crab walks, and robot walks (whatever that is). She likes to jump far and run around. So we were thinking it might be time to try gymnastics, and last night we took her to the 5:45pm class, which is really conventient for both mine and Paul's schedules, and the location is too. At first she was excited, but then didn't want to let go of Paul's leg to be left alone in the new big class. The teachers weren't exactly much help in getting Anna to be comfortable or join in, so Paul took her out of the gym, where we started talking to her about doing it on her own or we would leave. Finally, one of the teachers came over, stuck out her hand to Anna, said, "I'm Emily, what's your name?" Anna replied and took her hand and off they went. She had the best hour doing jumps, swinging from an acrobat hand bar thing into a foam block pit, rolling, cart wheeling, balancing, walking backwards, going through tunnels, and all kinds of stuff. Paul and I were shocked at how much she could do we didn't know about (likely learned from Tumblebus at school), and when it was over, she started crying because she didn't want to leave!

So there it is, every Thursday night at 5:45. She wants to go back already and keeps talking about it, even this morning. We'll keep going as long as she's having fun!