a peek inside the fishbowl

The girls both started gymnastics class this week.

The first words uttered (by Sarah, I think): “MOM, EVERYONE’S WEARING BATHING SUITS!” I stared goggle-eyed at the array of female gym attire.  Most of it was g.d. tacky, the twice-removed cousin of that horrible fashion crime: 1980s aerobicswear. Okay, maybe not that bad, but bad. There was an overabundance of hot pink and shimmering spandex. Mine eyes were hurtin’.

We had been led astray. A friend assured us the girls could wear shorts and a t-shirt. So they did. And haha they were the only ones. Okay, Emma was the only one. She wore these sweet little red jersey shorts and a cotton top. Sarah wore a black hand-me down gymnastics suit. It was black with long sleeves and regular bathing-suit style rear. We put shorts on top because it became apparent they were a touch too small. She was picking them out of her crack the whole time.

I wish I didn’t feel like I have to rush out and buy each girl a gymnastics suit. (And if I do, it won’t be one of those eyesores I saw the other day. I will only consider monochromatic, preferably black, with longer bottoms so their cheeks don’t spill out.) Size issues aside (Sarah definitely can’t wear hers) I hate being pressured to buy because everyone else is wearing it.

I was pleasantly surprised by the number of boys I saw. (Most were wearing special white tops and black shorts.) The more I watched, the more I loved the idea of enrolling a boy in gymnastics instead of say, hockey. What a perfect activity to get them involved in. What a great way of blowing off steam…  and nonviolent to boot. From what I saw their energies were focused on the task at hand: the tumble, the jump, the leap, the bounce.

This gym is a kid’s dream come true: trampolines big and small, piles of mats for cushy landings and for rolling on, rolling in or jumping on. Sarah declared a preference for “the cheese mat,” a huge wedge that the kids somersault down. There were ropes for climbing, bars and rings for hanging, springboards for sproinging …I couldn’t believe all the stuff.

The kids, boys and girls, had wide happy grins on their faces. It was kiddie heaven.

This was the first time out for both Emma and Sarah. Their bodies never stopped moving the whole time they were in there. Emma’s class was 90 minutes. Sarah’s was only 60, and let me tell you she was pretty bummed about that. As soon as she met up with us afterwards she declared she wanted to go back. Right. NOW.

Confession: at first we weren’t going to sign the girls up for gymnastics. This place is pricey. And I wasn’t entirely convinced that it was a good idea. As I watched the girls leap and jump and bounce I quietly worried about sprained wrists and ankles. But oh, they were having so much fun, learning so much, and trying things they’d never have the opportunity to try elsewhere. They were flushed, breathless, and oh so proud when they greeted us after their lesson. They were pleased as punch. And we are too.