Every day throughout the week Destroy would find the opportunity to burst into the room, inquiring if it was time to go to gymnastics. Until it was time to go, of course.
“I DON’T WANNA GO TO GYMNASTICS!” Continue reading
Tag Archives: gymnastics
My Mini Me
While one whirling dervish flung himself off stacks of mats and hurled himself up and over a balance structure twice his height – proudly chanting “POMMEL HORSE” at the top of his lungs, our other son was quiet.
This was not our most stellar gymnastics class outing. Continue reading
The Need to Jump
This was the final week of the winter session’s gymnastics class. (NASTICS!)
We’ll be going back next round. Because Destroy is a big fan. Search seems like he could take it or leave it. (The ever adorable Coach Teresa deemed Search “a good listener” and Destroy “very enthusiastic.” Yeah, I can read between the lines too.) But where else could Destroy hurl himself off raised beams and yell, “Mommy! I’m up high!”
Oh right. At home. Continue reading
Rough and Tumble Tumbly-Bouncing (Or When Toddlers Take Gymnastics)
Destroy came flying off the stairs, as he’d positioned himself just so that he slid down on his stomach, picking up momentum as his rotund little tummy garnered additional speed. He hit the tile floor, leapt up and headed toward the entryway rug at a full toddler sprint that quickly transitioned into a diving summersault (that was actually rather well done). As quickly as this little escapade had begun, Destroy popped back up, arms stretched toward the heavens in a gold-medal caliber routine completion gymnastics salute.
TADA! Continue reading
Big Boy Beds
Yesterday morning, when we went to raise our little apocalyptic horsemen from their angelic slumber, we discovered Destroy perfecting his pommel horse routine upon the railing of his crib.
Muppet Mousetrap
It started out with the belief that silence was scary. This was before my sons could talk.
Inevitably, the room falls silent as the clattering of toys and chattering of toddlers ceases. The hush of doom blankets the room in a thick embrace – just long enough for a parent to run screeching toward the room containing a ticking time bomb. Suddenly a large CRASH/BANG breaks the silent tension. Followed quickly by a combination of maniacal laughter and banshee screams.
It never ends well. Continue reading