M & M Olympics

Nearly every Tuesday night for the past two years, I have found myself in a padded room. Well, a padded toddler gym anyway. Last night was supposed to be R.J.'s award--the M & M Olympics. Turns out it was really my reward.  After a brief setback (a fit, a punch to the head--R.J.'s fist to my head to be exact-- and a well deserved timeout), I convinced R.J. that he wanted to be like James (Harden) and that he did in fact want to wear a "team shirt." He marched in with his team. He made faces at his mommy.

When he realized that mommy was right there, he broke rank and ran straight into my arms.  I guess I should have been embarrassed, but really, doesn't every mommy relish in those last fleeting days of baby-hood? If he were 16 and breaking rank on the football field, I'd feel differently. I think. But he's three. 

And so, the games began!

He cheered.

He tumbled. Forward rolls are a specialty.

He delighted in his success: "I did it!!!!"

He gave the M & M Olympics two thumbs up. 

And, when it was done, he rested. 

The only thing R.J. loves more than gymnastics is his Coach Becky. She's kind of a rock star. 

And, with smiles, R.J. took home his first trophy. He wanted to put it right on the counter so that his 'Sisa would see it first thing in the morning. Yes, he got M & M's too. Two bags. He shared.

And mommy and daddy were most proud of all. ( I remind myself that I won't always look like the throw pillows on my couch. Pregnancy is temporary. And I'm grateful for that too.)