My middle son is becoming a gymnast.
Not like an Olympic caliber gymnast or anything, but a cartwheel-loving, back-hand-springing, little, muscular ball-of-explosive-energy gymnast.
Basically, he’ taking a gymnastic class that is designed to teach the fundamentals of the sport to 4 and 5 year old children.
And guess what?!
He loves it!
As in smiling, and laughing, and begging me to take him loves it.
He doesn’t feel that way about much.
Let me rephrase. He doesn’t feel that way about anything.
So seeing him happily bound across the floor and swivel around the pommel horse makes me pretty dang excited.
So what’s the problem?
At least not for me.
But, apparently it’s a bit of a problem for other people.