Recently, T. went to a gymnastics party to celebrate a classmate's birthday. The local place does a really great job with the young kids. They start off with warm-ups and then an obstacle course is set up for them to maneuver.
The kids line up and follow each other through tunnels, over mats, and across balance beams. The instructors teach them how to do somersaults and bounce up from their butts on the trampoline. The grand finale is to hang from the rings; only to drop, laughing hysterically, into a pit of foam blocks.
As the party-goers have their fun, parents can watch from a loft on one side of the gym. As I watch T. scurry about, I am amazed at how agile he seems to be. I mean, this is a child who, since his first steps, has repeatedly tripped over his own two feet. He is completely accident prone and falls at least once or twice a day. He falls up stairs. He falls down stairs. He runs into walls. He bumps his head on his bunk bed. He's clumsy and knows it.
So, imagine my surprise when I was leaving the party and was stopped by one of the moms at the front desk.
"Yes, this is T.'s mom!" She enthusiastically said to the instructor who had run the party.
"Hi! Has T. ever taken gymnastics before?" He asked me.
"No, never, why?" I questioned, totally curious to where the conversation was going.
"Wow. I'd LOVE to have him on my boy's team. He's very talented!"
"Um--really?!" I said with a giggle.
"Absolutely, please think about it."
I was dumbfounded because I worry every time he goes out to play. I always want to wrap him in bubble wrap or dress him like this:
I guess you just never know!