Gymnastics Class = Jeez Your Mom Is a Big Fat Idiot

Bump was feeling a little under the weather, and Lula was still not completely recovered, so I took the day off yesterday and brought Lumpyhead to his first gymnastics class.

Lumpyhead is the oldest kid in his group. I knew he would be at the upper end of the age bracket, but Bump and I are obviously uncaring parents who have allowed Lumpyhead to fall behind his peers. I bet that’s why he was waitlisted at preschool.

I hope we’ve caught our failure in time to correct it, and Lumpyhead can still be adequately enriched. This delay could mean he's destined for a lousy kindergarten and a failing elementary school, followed by a mediocre high school and Brown. Or, God forbid, Princeton.

Yeesh.

Also, panic!

(okay, not really)

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People, toddler gymnastics class is hard. I broke a sweat more than once. And that damn foam pit nearly ate me for lunch.

What I did wrong:

Pedicure. Parents and toddlers are required to be barefoot for the class. I forgot to fix the chipped polish on my right foot, and my toenails are long, skanky talons.

Shut yer yap. I yammered on incessantly at Lumpyhead through the whole thing. I discovered later that non-verbal encouragement is requested, and parental correction and direction is frowned upon (“following the instructors and watching other children is an essential part of the learning process,” or some such.) I was totally That Woman. Sorry, fellow gymnasts, I thought the staff meant they didn’t want the spectator parents yelling down from the balcony, I didn’t realize they meant me.

Nice duds, Dumbass. I dressed incorrectly. I dressed Lumpyhead incorrectly. My first clue was all the little kids in leotards; Lumpyhead and I both wore jeans and tee shirts. When I was struggling mightily to haul my fat ass out of the foam pit, the chirpy instructor offered that “sometimes it’s harder in jeans.” I’m sure she was just being kind.

No kegels. After giving birth to two kids, rigorous jumping can be a little dicey. There’s a procedure in place for when toddlers have an accident, but I doubt the staff would be so understanding if it was me who peed on the trampoline.

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Some notes for Bump for next week, so he can learn from my experience:

1. Lumpyhead loves the balance beam, the trampoline, and climbing up the foam pit slide. He hates the hanging bar.

2. The staff recommends no buttons, zippers or snaps for Lumpyhead’s clothing. You will want to wear shorts yourself, because you are going to sweat like some sort of farm animal.

3. See to those toenails.

4. For the love of all that is holy, don’t go into the Sarlacc Foam Pit, because I don’t want to hear your new definition of pain and suffering as it slowly digests you over a thousand years.