Le Bug du Tumble

The crab walk
For the past six weeks A has been participating in a Tumble Bugs class at our local YMCA. She loves it. We already knew from a previous class that our kid is not the next Mary Lou Retton. She spent six months in a gymnastics class at the The Little Gym and still could not do a forward roll. Or any kind of roll. Or hang on the bar. Or stand on one leg. Mostly she would just run around and yell stuff at the other kids. I can already hear her future gym teacher saying, "This is not social hour, Miss M." Of course, who am I to talk? In gym class I always signed up for stuff like "Rec Games" and spent half the year playing bumper pool and ping pong. Bumper pool - I can't believe it's not in the Olympics. My friend J and I actually made a pact when we were freshman: we agreed to complete our entire high school career without playing a single organized sport. It was an easy pact to keep, for both of us.

But back to my kid. The first gymnastics class was fun, but not fruitful. So naturally when that class was done I signed her up for another one. I figured it would be a fun activity for the middle of the week, when nothing else is going on.
The Tumble Bugs class is taught by Miss Nicole, who is verrrrry pregnant. Her assistant is Mr. Keenan. I think Mr. Keenan is around 17, so I do enjoy having to call someone 20 years my junior "Mister." But on the other hand, I have to admit that I think it's nice for kids to learn to address people properly and politely. Anyway, my kid has a thing for Mr. Keenan. Last night in class she was supposed to be sitting on the black line, doing her stretches, while Miss Nicole and Mr. Keenan demonstrated the stretches and sat facing us a few yards away. A got up, walked across the room, plopped down about three millimeters from Mr. Keenan, and proceeded to demonstrate the stretches alongside him. Apparently she is the assistant's assistant.

Later during the class, Mr. Keenan was leading the kids in a side-step down the black line. A forced her way in between Mr. Keenan and another little girl, so that she could stand closest to him and hold his hand. This went on for the whole session. He would demonstrate an activity, she would throw herself at him. Is she not getting enough time with her dad or what?

During another activity, A went up to the front and announced, "I farted" in front of the class. Miss Nicole thought she said "I'm sorry." A has a habit of running off and not listening, so Miss Nicole must have thought she was making amends. "No," my precious baby girl repeated, "I FAR-TED!" The other moms and dads all looked at me with that "you must be so proud" expression that I already know all too well.

There are a few things that the kid keeps forgetting:
  • Sleep is a requirement of the human body

  • There is no occasion, ever, which requires syrup in one's hair

  • Bodily functions should not be announced
P and I are both fairly introverted, so it is definitely an adventure for us to have an extroverted child on our hands. She seems to have signed some sort of legal contract with the universe that requires her to announce all bodily functions. She has also assigned herself the position of Fart/Burp/Sneeze/Cough police. I have found that it's best just to confess right away because if she thinks you have burped and you deny it, she will not let it go until you own up to it. Resistance is futile.

After this class ends I think we'll take the winter off as far as activities go. I may sign her up for dance class when she turns three. It'll be funny if we have her try out every type of activity out there and then it turns out that bumper pool was her "thing" all along.

This may look like an impressive dismount in the making,
but it's really a "get me off here" manuever.


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