Today was a bit much.
Jeremy is enrolled in a mommy-and-me gymnastics class for two- and three-year olds. The class meets once a week for 45 minutes at Planet Gymnastics, which is a reputable local business offering basic gymnastics courses for children and youth, and also trains a handful of fairly talented kids who are serious about the sport. The gym is located in Land Park, a desirable older residential neighborhood near downtown filled with many yuppie families eager to enroll the next little Nadja Comenici.
The class is a tad bizarre. Teacher Medie starts the class by demonstrating the "skills" to be mastered on each apparatus around the "circuit." As if toddlers are going to concentrate on pointing their toes and move around the gym in an orderly manner. No. For the most part, Jeremy and his classmates run full tilt with abandon, bouncing off the padded ramps, screeching with joy in the pit, and rearranging the circuit to fit their own imaginations. Truly, this age group is but one step up from wild banshees. Mid-way through the session, the kids gather on a parachute and Teacher Medie leads about three minutes of stretching exercises, which at best are a great way for the kids to learn body parts. It also introduces these little people to the concept of group instruction, even if their attention span is w-a-a-a-y to short to master it.
Even so, I value the classes for Jeremy for two reasons. First, he needs any opportunity he can get to practice his balance, and how to fall (which he does often) in a way that minimizes the hurt, and build muscle on his skinny little skeleton. Second, in the winter the gym is like a dependable, if expensive, park outing.
Today was the end of the current eight-week session. Apparently the older kids have "shows" during the last class of the session, to demonstrate the physical progress they have made. This time around, the gym thought that the tiny tumblers should have their own show today, too. Teacher Medie told us about it last week, with her tongue firmly set in her cheek, and offered that the kids would just be doing a ceremonial circuit around the gym during the last five minutes of class. But clearly the irony was lost on most of the other (college-educated) moms.
When we arrived today just minutes before class, not only were Jeremy's classmates there along with their moms, most of their grandparents were there as well! With Sony Handycams focused on their special little angel! Even some fathers were there, having scooted over from their downtown offices, to witness the talents of their offspring. Many of the tiny tumblers were decked out in their Planet Gymnastics t-shirts and leotards. And there stood Jeremy and I, just wanting to play. I think Teacher Medie was a little flabbergasted as well, when the humorless, expectant expressions of the moms, dads and grandparents conveyed that they wanted a "show," by golly. She adjusted well, and encouraged all of the extended family members to participate in the class. Which of course made the gym very crowded. One grandmother whose video camera was fixated on her own beloved angel obliviously ran right over Jeremy and sent him flying. Thank goodness the class has taught Jeremy how to roll, and he bounced right up and happily took off in another direction.
For a moment, I felt guilt pangs over being a bad co-parent and even worse mother of Jeremy's grandparents' grandson. I hadn't told Mommy Barb or any of his grandparents about this winter pageant. I had deprived them of the opportunity to witness this seminal event in Jeremy's life. After all, he won his first blue ribbon! How? For raising his hands over his head at the end of class and shouting, "Ta da!!!"
