Every Wednesday afternoon, I coach 3-4 year-olds in gymnastics. Not hardcore gymnastics with me shouting at them and pressuring them to do perfect somersaults and shit. But more like exercising – playing with balls, doing singing games and cartwheels, crawling up rope and jumping onto huge mattresses. Stuff like that.
And I didn’t really think I would like coaching. I mean, there are 25 kids. That’s a lot of people!! And me with people (plural), in person, is just a horrible mix. Plus I’ve never really liked other people’s kids that much.
So why did I volunteer? I don’t know. Peer pressure, I suppose.
But you know what? I actually enjoy it. And I actually like the kids. And they like me(!?) Some of them have even become quite the fans of yours truly. Honestly, that might just be the reason why they seem to be growing on me. And they see me about town and they wave and smile and say hello, and their mothers go: “Oooh, is that someone you know?” My tiny jaded heart is practically melting.
But today I can’t go. I have to work my day job, stretching into the late afternoon and evening. Another graduation ceremony. With all the same songs and all the same speeches. I’m getting so fed up with them, it’s just ridiculous.
I miss my tiny tots. I want to dance and sing and pretend to be an elephant or a dangerous lion. Not sit on my butt some more and be quiet.