Confessions of a Serial Swooper

Late last week, I decided to take my boys to “Open Gym” at our local YMCA.  We’ve done this a few times before and it always took place in the Y’s Main Gymnasium.  The room is loaded with stuff — trampoline tracks that lead to a big pit of foam blocks, balance beams, giant foam building blocks, a rope swing and the entire floor is covered by mats.  Plenty of easy entertainment for a couple of boys.  I can let them run wild together and know they’re safe while I play on my iPhone watch them lovingly.

But, the other day, we excitedly arrived at the gym and found it was full of (gasp!) gymnasts!  Twirling, swirling, leaping little girls in leotards.  Hmmm…did I have the time wrong?   Turns out that Open Gym that day was to be held in another gym.  One room down.  A real, shiny wooden floor, bleachers, basketball hoop and soccer goals type of gym.   The Y had made a small attempt at improving this new version of “Open Gym” by throwing in a few foam building blocks, one balance beam and a few random balls.

I looked at my guys.

“What do you think?  Is this kind of lame?  You wanna just go home?”

Because to me, it looked awful.  No real entertainment. Nothing new or different than what you’d usually find in, well, a gym.

Big Brother looked at Little Brother.  “You want to play Freeze Tag!?”

“Yeah!”

And off they went.  Racing around, chasing and laughing and throwing balls around and just completely, gleefully entertained for nearly forty-five minutes before they collapsed down next to me ready to go home for a snack and a nap.

Apparently anything that can be done at maximum speed suits them just fine.  Lesson learned.