The Closest Thing To Heaven-on-Earth.

While my parents were in town, we took Ezra for a free trial class at Gymboree.

At first, Ezra made sure he was in the farthest opposite corner from where all the fun and kids and games were happening. It was as if he and the other children were polarized opposites and some powerful magnetic force was keeping them apart-- no human effort was enough to drag him towards the group of obedient children- sitting and clapping and following directions like a little cluster of Mini-Saints.



At this point, I was worried and convinced Ezra would never learn how to mesh well with other kids and I would have to spend the rest of his childhood taking him to "play" in places like corporate office buildings and empty fields... places where we would be certain not to run into another child and be forced to actually SHARE SOMETHING. Ezra can't even bring himself to share oxygen with other kids half of the time. (Moooom!! Moooom! They are breathing MY air!! Whhhiiinnne yell scream kick...)




So, I was trying to acclimate myself to the idea of being a gymboree-less mom, when Ms. Emily pulled something out of the cupboard that changed our lives forever.

Bubbles.




These were no ordinary bubbles. These bubbles drifted and filled the entire room and never seemed to pop. Ezra ran squealing over to the group of kids and started twirling and dancing and laughing in the middle of them all- catching bubbles in his hands. A few bubbles floated down and caught on his gi-normous eyelashes like snowflakes. They were everywhere.



And he was hooked.

From that moment on, Ezra was the most obedient, most Saint-like child of the bunch. What's that Ms. Emily? Pick up a corner of the parachute? OKAY!! Shake it like a polaroid picture? OKAY!! Clap my hands? SURE! Jump and twist like Gymbo the clown? NO PROBLEM!

It was so much fun to watch him interact with kids and actually have a good time doing it. I was so excited and thrilled.

The group he was in that day was a group of kids that were a bit older than him. (Up to 28 months). I took him again this morning, but this time he went to the group that was one step lower- making him the oldest in the class. He seemed to do better at the games and songs in the older group, so now I'm in a dilemma. Do I put him in the younger group so he can feel confident in all the activities? Confident in himself? Or do I put him in the older group where it might be a little more challenging? I'm torn.



Anywho, it's official. I'm a gymboree mom! Thanks MoMar and DooDad for the awesome gift.