The girls finished their last class of Rhythmic Gymnastics this week. It’s the beginning of a series of lasts for this adventure.
Back in November we decided we should sign them up for something. An active activity to keep them occupied, out of the house and moving. They said no to soccer. I don’t blame them; they haven’t years of experience kicking around a ball and Amelia doesn’t like the whole ball flying at your face part.
There was martial arts; which I though was actually an art class. Glad I found out before I signed them up.
There was basketball. They said no.
There was dance. I said no once I heard the price per month.
There was alternative sports. I don’t know what this one involved, I just imagined this was the activity that parents of little Spanish boys who didn’t play soccer did.
So, Rhythmic Gymnastics it was. It was $15 per month per kid and met twice a week for an hour each.
I envisioned graceful turns, hoops and ribbons waving through the air. I pictured Amelia’s gymnastics class back home; the structure. I pictures the Olympics (what was I thinking?) I remembered my own rhythmic gymnastics ribbons as a child that I spent hours working with to make them ripple prettily.
After staying to watch the first few classes, I learned it was better to just go back home and not watch.
The chaos, the yelling (not the children) and goofing off (yes the children). It was better to just let it be. Let the kids get in some exercise, some extra Spanish language time and have fun.
Months went by and when I learned there would be a gymnastics exhibition, I wondered how in the world would they have a routine together for it? I mostly remember the chaos of the earlier months and the after-class reporting by the girls on who misbehaved this class.
A routine was going to be performed? I assumed only for the parents of our village.
NO, it was a big exhibition in another town with the rhythmic gymnasts from 8 other villages and lasted for 3 hours.
And you know what? They did have a routine they could perform. Without the instructor leading them what to do in the peripherals. Which when you consider the age range was 4 years to 8 years old. It was a good accomplishment.
The day of the exhibition the girls were nervous and excited to be wearing their new costumes.
I had strict instructions that their hair should be in a bun. With no FLY AWAYS. You can see by the picture, this was not the case. I just didn’t see the big deal and I haven’t used hair spray in years so it never occurred to me to slick their hair down.
They got to ride a “team” bus to the exhibition.
They got their hair glittered and sparkled and plastered to their head when they arrived.
They got to wear eye shadow and lipstick.
They were excited!
Clara and I sat drove down to the exhibition in a rental car. Luckily, I decided to follow one of the team buses otherwise I may not have made it to the exhibition hall. I was given the wrong address and I made the decision on a whim to follow the bus rather than listen to the GPS.
Amelia & Violet did a great job with the rest of their team. It was fun to see it be an organized, big deal after I had been anticipating a hot, tiny gym with kids, parents and gymnasts running amok.
Nice job ladies!
(As a side note, I have spell checked the word rhythmic every single time I have used it in this blog post. I didn’t spell it write once. Grammar pun intended)