Dear Gwen,
Today you are ninety-eight months old.
This is a really fun time of year. The level of activity
ramps up, with lots of year-end performances/events/recitals/outings/etc., but
at the same time the extra-curricular stuff is winding down and dropping off
our calendars, one by one. It’s a great feeling. As I write this, both your
gymnastics and piano lessons are done for the summer, and you have only a few
days left of school and of after-school fun with your babysitter.
I made some lovely thank you cards for your teachers this
year, and when it was time to fill them in you decided that “every good card
needs a poem on the inside”, so we quickly made one up. I wrote it out on a
scrap piece of paper, along with the teachers’ names, and left you to copy the
text and fill in all five cards. To my surprise and pleasure, you actually did
this, and did an awesome job too! Here’s a photo of one of them.
Your year-end events for piano and gymnastics both went
well. At your piano recital, you very proudly played the Star Wars theme. At
the gymnastics fun meet, you struggled a bit: you forgot your floor routine
partway through, but you followed the old stage advice “the show must go on”
and just made up some moves until the routine was finished. I thought this was
a good idea! You were disappointed with yourself, though, and a little
frustrated. The meet also gave Dad and me an opportunity to observe you in an
environment of other kids – not always a pleasant experience. The coaches had
asked everyone to show up 15 minutes early, which we did. All athletes (that’s
you) were asked to sit in lines on the gym floor mats while we waited for the
meet to begin. This did not work too well for you, and Dad and I had a perfect
view of the 20+ kids who were sitting (mostly) calmly and still, and you
bouncing around from one place to another: greeting a coach with a hug,
chatting with another gymnast, playing with the gym props, lying on your
stomach and kicking your legs, and so on, and so on, and so on … It’s not
always fun to be reminded of the differences between you and other kids. We
really enjoyed watching your routines during the meet itself – floor, bars,
beam, and vault – but the most awful and painfully embarrassing moment came at
the very end of the meet. The head coach was announcing each athlete’s name so
they would come to the large podium, receive a medal, and then pose for a
photograph before receiving a certificate and returning to the floor. The coach
was doing an especially good job of picking out each athlete’s parents in the
audience, directing the kids to pose and smile on the podium long enough for
them to get a good photo. Finally, it was your turn, and I had the camera
ready. You got up on the podium, then instead of accepting your medal, turned
to pick a fight with the coach about the pronunciation of your last name. The
pattern of the awards routine was disrupted; there was no lengthy pose for you to
get your photo taken. I was so frustrated, disappointed, and yes, embarrassed.
Making the whole situation worse? THE HEAD COACH HADN’T EVEN ANNOUNCED YOUR
LAST NAME WHEN SHE CALLED YOU. She didn’t announce anyone’s last name – it was
a small enough group that she didn’t need to. But you needed to pick a fight
about it anyway, because last year when she called you, she’d said your name
wrong. And if it happens one way one time, it better happen that way every
time, or YOU WILL PICK AT IT.
We went to another year-end event, the Family Barbecue
hosted by the Nanaimo Theatre Group. I am actually part of the committee that
runs social events like this, and I was one of the main organizers of the
barbecue, so … yeah, we kinda had to be there – despite the rain. The barbecue
turned out pretty well, actually – we had about thirty people in attendance,
including a good group of kids, and you had a lot of fun playing with Graham
and Genevieve.
We went to a check-in visit with your counsellor earlier
this week. She has a large and wonderfully well-trained dog, Jake, who is often
part of your sessions together, and this visit was no exception. At the end of
your time together, you got to feed Jake a banana while we watched. You broke
the banana into chunks and made Jake do different things in order to get each
one. I was very impressed with the way you used your voice and actions to
control Jake, a large and strong dog. Your usual fidgety, distracted nature was
not in evidence, and you needed no assistance from the adults around you to
make Jake follow your commands. It was really impressive to see, and it made me
look forward to the time when we get our own dog.
Love,
Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment