On Monday afternoons, Adam and I alternate picking up Amelia to take her to her “gymnastics” class. I use the quotations because this class is a preschool version of gymnastics; we are not building a foundation for the Olympics, we’re learning how to balance and improve those motor skills.
There’s music involved, sometimes techno that steals into your brain, takes hold, and asserts itself three days later when you’re trying to quietly get some work done. Sometimes, it’s music for preschoolers, with lyrics full of directions, shapes, colors and rhyming words. I won’t pretend that we chose this class for its music, but when I look back on that weekly hour, the music is one of my first thoughts.
A good portion of this class for three-year-olds is taken up by free play on gymnastics equipment; balance beams, bars, sometimes even an inflatable air mat or a parachute makes an appearance.
Whoever doesn’t take Amelia that week, picks up Eleanor. Our theory is that each of them is getting some one-on-one time with a parent. So far, it works out, most of the time.
Yesterday was a gymnastics day, but not just any gymnastics day. This week was “parent involvement week,” which meant that parents were invited in past the glass wall into the actual gym portion of the massive room. The class put on a little “show” and then, each child mostly humored their parents as they posed for photographs.
Yesterday morning (and almost every Monday morning), Amelia woke up with a question on her lips; “is today a gymnastics day?” This Monday, though, as soon as I assured her that it was, she reminded me that it was parent involvement week. Adam and I decided that we would both go to watch; so, that afternoon, I took Amelia to class and then Adam brought Eleanor when he finished up at work.
I helped Amelia change out of her school clothes and into her real gymnastics outfit (I’m working on teaching her the word “leotard,” but for now, she is insistent that it’s a real gymnastics outfit instead). She appreciated her outfit in the full-length mirror wall as I attempted to put her hair up into a ponytail.
While I brushed out the remnants of a full day of daycare, she chattered, as she usually does. Amelia pointed out that her outfit had black, blue and pink. She maintained that the blue portion is the ocean and that there were fish on the tag before I, apparently without regard for sea life, cut it off.
By the time class started, there were eight three-year-olds bouncing off the walls. If you’ve never seen kids in a situation like this, you’re probably not as tired as you could be. Just watching them can be exhausting; I will say that once she fully calms down, Amelia sleeps hard on Monday nights. Amelia literally spent at least five minutes running in circles by herself during the free-play portion of class. During the first half of the class, they practiced for their “show,” and did a few other normal class activities.
While they were practicing, I made small talk with some of the other parents about preschools and kindergartens. I have no idea how suddenly it’s time to be talking about kindergarten. How does that happen?
While I was trying to be noncommittal about where Amelia will end up in the next couple of years, Adam and Eleanor were making their entrance. Before I even saw them, I saw a blur of black and blue streak across the room. Amelia ran straight into the window wall and pressed her face against the glass with an enormous smile. Adam waved, but that was not enough for the excitement of having all of us there.
She raced to the door, used all of her strength to open it, and barely missing her bare toes, she slipped out into the parent waiting area, hurling herself toward him for a hug, all the while shouting welcomes.
The other parents chuckled to themselves; some even gave her a perfunctory “awww.” Eleanor’s adorable eleven-month-old wave, clap and smile did nothing to detract attention from the reunion scene, after a whole nine hours of being apart.
They arrived just in time for the teacher, who is actually called “Teacher Abby” by all involved, to summon the parents. We each removed our shoes and took a seat along the window wall. Some parents were reluctant, some complained about having to get up, one had to wrestle a sibling into the gym and we had to keep Eleanor from joining in the fun.
The parents (and Eleanor) clapped while the children lined up. I doubt that anyone will be surprised to hear that my girl had readily volunteered to go first. Abby read Amelia’s introduction, informing the audience that Amelia said she wants to be Ash (the porcupine from the movie, “Sing”) when she grows up and that her favorite animal is horses (which I am very surprised to hear).
Amelia confidently ran to a predetermined spot on the floor and did a very enthusiastic forward roll. She then ran as quickly as she could to the wall opposite us, waving as she went and characteristically, following directions to the letter.
Other children followed suit, some sharing Amelia’s excitement, but most hanging back and one even needing to be led by the hand to take their turn. A couple other children did forward rolls, but several simply jumped or walked to the spot and then to the wall. The parents clapped, cheered and furiously took pictures throughout.
Next, we were treated to an exhibition of different “creative” movements. The class galloped, ran, clapped and danced to a song. Amelia seemed especially inspired by the galloping section, possibly due to her newly acquired love of horses.
Each time, Amelia galloped by where we were sitting, she practically radiated pride. Her smile stretched from ear to ear and the gusto of her wave was never diminished. She even stopped to give Eleanor a couple hugs, on a few of her rounds. At the end of the song, the class held hands and made a sort-of successful attempt at taking a group bow.
The bow wasn’t the end though, folks. After the bow, the kids were asked to show their parents what they could do on the equipment. Amelia did show us the balance beam, had a run-in with a classmate on a set of bars involving not one, but two, foot stomps and parent intervention, did a set of forward rolls, jumped backwards (and claimed that it was a backwards roll) and kicked her feet up on the wall to give a handstand the three-year-old version of a good college try. Like I said, we are not preparing for the Olympics. Although, to be fair, Amelia couldn’t do any of those things when she first started this class.
The finale of parent involvement night had us all sitting against the window wall again. This time, each child was called up to stand on a makeshift podium. Some smiled, some hid their faces, and one made a silly face, but they each took their turns. Smart phones clicked like paparazzi. There was a group picture that actually did involve the entire group, most of whom where smiling and all of whom at least looked toward a camera.
That was it. Our first gymnastics “performance” was over. Amelia had been an enthusiastic, active and photogenic participant. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a prouder galloping three-year-old. We laughed at her eagerness, but I am so grateful for it. Amelia’s passion is undeniable. She is zealous in almost everything she does and I don’t see how you could help but love her for it.
Gymnastics may not always be the passion, and honestly, we will be completely ok with that. I’m already thinking of trying soccer with her or maybe another round of swim lessons since she’s older. I want her to try as many different things as she will, until we find ardor that sticks. So, for now, at three-years-old, if you need us on a Monday evening, you’ll know where to find us. For now, on Mondays we wear real gymnastics outfits.
