Last night, I had an epiphany. Or a "moment" of some sorts. Something happened in the universe or the air or my digestive system because I could easily see the future...
Yesterday, on her sixth birthday, Corinne had her first gymnastics class.
And folks? It felt... right.
After months, no, YEARS, of begging for gymnastics, we finally consented and signed her up. She is using her birthday money from Grandpa to fund most of the cost, because she's already in 2 dance classes and we have 3 children and that money tree I planted still hasn't produced more than $13 bucks. When she would plead and plead for gymnastics classes, I figured she was just being her usual go-getter-self who wants to try everything under the sun. But when my kindergartener (who totally understands the value of money and how rarely she has so much in her possession) wants to spend her entire birthday check on something? You realize that she is serious.
We were running a bit late, and I had paperwork to fill out, so the secretary walked her back into the gym. I finally eased myself onto the parents' bleachers and had to squint to find her little black leotard in the massive sea of flipping little girls.
And there she was. Stretching her legs beside the other children. Jumping on the trampoline, fingers extended. Flipping over the bars, pointing her toes. Giggling with the girls in line. And looking absolutely at home...
A feeling rushed over me. I swear to God that this has never really happened to me before, but as she raced to me at the end of class, I just knew that I would be spending large quantities of my life sitting on bleachers, cheering her on.
"How was it? Did you like it?"
Sweaty and pink-cheeked, she grinned her toothless smile and nodded. She hugged me till I nearly lost my breath and said,
"It was the Best! Day! EVER!!! When is my next class?!?"
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