Now that swim class season is over (although it is still plenty warm here in Sacramento!) we've moved on to gymnastics. June said she wanted to go back to dance class but we thought we might give something a try where she was allowed to release her (seemingly endless amounts of) energy instead of trying to control it. Although those tap shoes were adorable.
So we signed up for gymnastics in a place where her friend goes and showed up not really knowing what to expect.
(It's a miracle that we showed up at all. I left my phone at home and didn't know exactly where the place was. I got close and then reached for my phone to GPS it the rest of the way and...nope. Nothing. I panicked. Class was starting in 10 minutes, I was too far away from home to go back and June was SO EXCITED for her first class. I stopped two different places to ask for help and only the wonderful man working at a gas station took mercy on me and let me Google it on his phone. I would not have survived in the wild before cell phones.)
But watching June bounce around was well worth the heart attack I had on the drive there.
June has had two classes so far and I get such a kick out of watching these kids do little versions of adult gymnastics.
June's favorite so far is jumping on the trampoline and jumping into the foam pit.
This gym in particular is a legitimate gym. As in, in a huge warehouse where there are young adults practicing serious acrobatics and maneuvers while the little ones jump around on the outskirts and in the kid section. The foam pit mentioned above is the landing area of where the rings and the vault are.
I do think I need to chillax a little and just let myself enjoy. I'm kind of constantly aware of how well behaved all the other kids in the class are, sitting in a circle watching the instruction, and...oh look, that's my kid over there on the trampoline. I mean, Michael went to the last class and he told me that I should maybe stop hissing "June. Juuuuune, listen!" and just let the instructor handle it.
It's just hard to do nothing when the other girls are patiently waiting their turn to do a chin-up on the bar while June is hot-dog-rolling down a foam wedge in the middle of the room while singing to herself.
Sorry for the blurry photo. You aren't supposed to use a flash because it's distracting to the future olympians who are literally flying through the air. I was told this after trying a picture with a flash, and I felt terrible so I put my camera away. But when the girls moved on to another thing, I quickly took out the camera and it reverted to default settings and flashed. Receiving end of the stink eye, over here.
OMG, June gets her listening skills from me!
So I'm hoping that peer pressure and discipline and whatever other forces might have their effect on June, and she too will one day stand primly in line and do the right thing on the little rings instead of swinging back and forth like an orangutan. Until then, I'll watch that little ball of energy bounce around from my spot on the bleachers, thermos in one hand, camera in the other. Flash turned off.