Tumbling

Emily decided that she would like to try gymnastics. I fretted and fussed over it because I didn't want her doing anything that could get her hurt but I finally relented when I reminded myself that this was a basic tumbling class. A cartwheel here, a somersault there... what could be the problem?

Well, there were problems. Emily started the class already missing three days so she felt like she didn't know a n y b o d y and she would n e v e r make friends. Then her hair fell out of the pony tail I put in for her and it was flying everywhere... and sticking to her face when the tears started to fall because she couldn't do a proper cartwheel. Through a window I watched her as she tried again and again, getting more frustrated and upset at each attempt. The tears fell but she kept trying. My heart broke for her.

She had been so excited about this class and here she was just miserable. Throughout her misery I debated scooping up my daughter and taking her home. I realized just then that no matter the hurt or the injustice I will feel it for my child ten times worse than she'll ever feel it. When her heart breaks mine will shatter for her.

I walked into the gym and motioned her over. "Turn around," I told her as I quickly pulled her hair back up. Pony tail in place, I leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Don't try to be perfect, just have fun." I squeezed her shoulder and sent her back into the fray, wondering if I was doing the right thing by her.

Thankfully when we left her mood had completed shifted. (Ah...the power of an eight year old.) The experience was, in her words, "awesome!" We'll just need to work on that cartwheel together.