So much fun

Last night, was gymnastics night. Oh yes, we're still going--still torturing those poor, helpless, young, 20-somethings with the nightmare that they'll end up pregnant and produce a child that is just like Jenna. It's fun to see raw fear--it's just so rare to see it every week. Call me lucky.

The night started out reasonably well. We met our very close friends (and by "close" I mean that if I were in 6th grade, I'd say they were "our very best friends, ever! Because they're 2 good + 2 be = 4gotten!")at a fun restaurant for dinner. So, we got to eat, chitchat, watch their two children behave, and watch mine terrorize the place. It's always so much fun. Did you know that a 1.5-year old, that has very limited speech, can clearly (and I mean CLEARLY) scream, "NO!" and "I WANT MOM!" so loudly that it a)makes your ears bleed and b)causes everyone to duck under their table, because surely, this is the precursor to the bomb that we've all been warned about--please get under your table, and fold your hands over your head. Regardless, we all were able to eat, unscathed, and return to our vehicles for a pleasant ride home. No casualties=a good night.

I had to hurry up and get Jenna in her leotard for gymnatics. The two very wrong words in that sentence are "had," because with her, if you "have" to do something, it's critical for her to disobey your every whim; and "hurry"--with a child that has to be forewarned that you're having chicken for dinner instead of porkchops, 6 hours before dinner or she'll have a meltdown, it's just no good. But, alas, we were out of the house in 15 minutes, which is a miracle for our household.

I took advantage of the drive to gymnastics to remind Jenna, for the bazillionth time, HOW to be a good girl at gymnastics. I go through the whole schpiel, beginning with "sit on your dot and listen to your teacher," and end with the usual, "blunt trauma, sharp objects in the eyes, and calling on your henchmen are totally not acceptable." You know, the usual. What always gets me, is she listens SO intently, and then, when I ask, "Understand?" She either says, "huh?" or "Can I listen to my music?" This kid can tune me out like an AM radio. It's amazing.

Gymnastics, at first, seems to go well. Then, Jenna realized that HEY! she's at gymnastics; and WHOA! there are several things that I'm not supposed to be doing; and YEAH! the coaches are too slow for me! Those thoughts led to the inexplicable explosion of energy that she gets when she's excited. The only warning signs are her shifty eyes, and her tongue slowly creeping out of her mouth. 2 seconds later, we're in full-blown, Michael Jordan action--with the high-jumping, and the slamming, and the tongue hanging out. For about 5 minutes, I ignored her. I ignored that she had left her class, and was hanging upside down, unattended, on the parellel bars. I ignored her when she ran to the foam pit and jumped in. However, when she got onto the trampoline, she had to be stopped. I mean, she could get hurt, with all the jumping, and the bouncing, and the flailing of her 3-year-old limbs. So, I nonchalantly sauntered over to the trampoline, then, much like a lion, leapt over the small wall, and tackled her. She never saw it coming. I am sly like a fox.

I sat her in front of me, had her put her hands on my shoulders, and look me in the eyes: "You have two choices: 1. You can go sit with your group, and listen to your teacher, or you can 2. Go home. That's it. Stay here and behave, or go home. It's up to you." Thankfully, she chose number 1, because honestly, I pay $60 a month for gymnastics, and I'm SO not into throwing away money. So, she scuttlebutted her way back to her group, and I spent the next 5 minutes slowly moving further and further away from her--until I was back with the other parents, who quickly offer me sighing-smiles, pats on the back, and knowing glances, all the while, thinking, "thank GOD that's not MY kid!"

Regardless of the drama, Jenna was as perfect as they come for the rest of class. She listened, she performed, she was great. She got a stamp from the teacher, and I bought her a Gatorade. Blue. Because blue's her favorite color. One of her coaches walked up to me and said, "She did REALLY good with me today!" and I said, "She did. She DID do really well," and Jenna looked at me and I looked at her, then I looked at her teacher and said, "That's because she's a good girl, and a fantastic kid," and I smiled. Jenna and I skipped out to the car.

Man, I love that kid! Have I mentioned that before? I LOVE THAT KID!