I have the kids signed up for two classes this summer: dance and gymnastics. Being not-quite-four, they are a little young for most of the actual “camp” programs in the area. So, as much as I would love to drop them off for a few hours a day, it seems that will have to wait until next year. So, here we our with our two, one-hour, once-a-week classes. Thankfully, both of them were excited to take both classes, so at least I don’t have to entertain one while the other is busy.
Rebecca is particularly enthusiastic. And while she certainly enjoys all of the jumping and spinning and tumbling, sometimes I wonder if the part she loves the best is wearing the appropriate outfit for each class.
Dance class? Are you kidding? She was sold at “tutu.” The teachers may not require a particular dress code, but every Tuesday morning she is beyond thrilled with her pink leotard and pink skirt. Oh, and pink slippers. Boy, does she love those.
But gymnastics, too, is a big hit in the clothing department. Even with less pink and no skirt. She seems to really get a kick out of having a special item of clothing for that unique purpose. Hell, she’d probably get excited if she had a school uniform. I suppose I’m the same way – I’m very picky about my exercise clothes. I will only work out in a particular style/group of clothing, and if I don’t have that, I pretty much won’t even consider it. Seeing the occasional person at the gym in jeans or khakis (you know you’ve seen that guy) gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Daniel, for his part, could care less. He’ll wear the athletic shorts I insist on (I am physically incapable of sending him to dance or gymnastics in denim or khaki shorts), but I had to let go when he insisted on a shirt with a collar. It seemed so wrong to me, but ultimately I accepted the fact that it was, at least, cotton. And that turning it into a battle would have been patently ridiculous. He is also the only boy in both groups, which doesn’t phase him in the slightest.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s Tuesday morning. Got to make sure Rebecca can find her tutu.








Library story hour does the trick, though we went today and Rebecca had a complete meltdown when I informed her she wasn’t allowed to keep the stuffed animal she played with while we were there. Eventually, back in the car, the 







