Tomorrow, Charlotte is going to the birthday party for one of her friends and pre-school classmates. It’s actually a gymnastics party and will be held at a local gymnastics studio.
Charlotte couldn’t be more excited.
Although, when I mentioned the possibility that I would be engaging in the gymnastics, she became somewhat concerned. I’m tempted to classify her feeling as mortification, but that’s probably too strong a word (at least at this point in her young life – give her some time).
Granted, I did announce to her that I would be giving a demonstration to show her friends how it was done. She informed me that it was for the kids and that I would not be able to participate.
Later in the day, while I was at work, I heard a knock on my office door. Charlotte was standing there with the invitation, printed by the studio. Apparently, she had asked her mother to read it to her (again). She was quite gratified to hear that the following line was included in the invitation: Parents are welcome in the gym but must refrain from using any of the equipment.
So there she stood, invitation in hand, to inform me that I would not be allowed to perform gymnastics. She stated, “You can’t do gymnastics at the party tomorrow. You’re too big.” She then added, “Mom can do gymnastics tomorrow because she’s not as big as you,” adding, “You’re too heavy.” (Karen loved that part.)
Refusing to be deterred, I staged the following phone conversation, pretending to call the gymnastics studio with Charlotte listening attentively: “Hello, this is Charles Putney. My daughter Charlotte has been invited to a gymnastic party at your gym tomorrow. I was wondering if … (pausing) oh, you’ve heard of me?.. oh, you’d be delighted if I performed a demonstration for the kids tomorrow?… Certainly, I’d be happy to. Thank you very much.”
Turning to Charlotte, I said, “So what do you think of that?”
Her response was, “It’s good,” while smiling her impish smile. I think she’s on to me.
Charlotte’s interest in gymnastics calls to mind one of my first posts as a blogger, for a different site, about a year and half ago. I’ve pasted it below for your reading pleasure.
I hope you enjoyed today’s serving (and re-serving) of ‘mac & cheese.’
Somersaults, January 14, 2008, MassMoms.com
My two-year old daughter looked at me expectantly and repeated herself: “Dad, your turn.”
For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to do a somersault – I had some type of a mental, or physical, block. I was bent over, poised, hands on the ground, ready to propel myself forward, but it just wasn’t happening. Part of it was a concern that my long, awkward frame would topple off to one side and hit the bureau, the wall, or the bed. “Charlotte, I’ll try later, when we’re downstairs.”
Somersaults are one of her new favorite things, and she’ll often exclaim, full of excitement, “Let’s do somersaults.” Other times, on a whim, she’ll bend down and roll over, often coming up far short of a full somersault and falling off to the side, but still rising triumphantly to revel in her ability to go topsy-turvy. When I was a child, I could also do them with ease, and I had wrongly assumed it would be like riding a bike.
I’ve always considered myself to be very connected to my inner-child, but even in the wider expanse of the downstairs playroom, I struggled to propel myself over. I was finally able to do one, relatively successfully, and forced myself to do one or two more. Unfortunately, it didn’t get any easier with each roll. I had hoped once I had done one, the block would be broken and it would be somersault city for me and my daughter. But alas, I often forfeit my turn, encouraging her to go again.
Somersaults are just one of the many ways in which my kids have literally turned life upside down. Charlotte’s “somersault” request is sure to be the first of many. I look forward with great joy and significant anxiety to the many future “somersaults” that are sure to follow. I’ve quickly learned that my son and daughter have the ability to get me to do things I would normally not try or even consider.
I’ve never been a thrill seeker and have an overwhelming fear of heights (and now, apparently, somersaults.) Early signs indicate that Charlotte will be a big fan of roller coasters, which terrify me. Although she can be tentative at times (thankfully), my daughter seems to have far fewer qualms than I do. (I blame my wife Karen and her side of the family for what I consider to be our daughter’s “daredevil” personality. Karen broke her arm three times before she reached the age of 10).
Regardless of my trepidation, I’m very excited about the many new experiences my kids are sure to expose me to. Charlotte, when she was barely older than two, announced that she and her brother would be playing football. She’s also shown an interest in soccer, dance, theater, home improvement, musical instruments (particularly the trombone, which her mother plays), parades… and the list goes on, some of which I know a good deal about and some of which I know absolutely nothing about. Regardless, it’s sure to be an adventure. You might even say a rollercoaster. Needless to say, I look forward to each successive, “Dad, your turn,” with both dread and expectation.
