Commemorating our family's love/hate relationship with gymnastics, this twenty second heart sits on the railings of the Queensbridge leisure centre. They started a new gym class recently, which I was very excited about having looked high and low for one for K to go too, since he was already doing somersaults off the sofa. The first day we rocked up he went into general meltdown, understandably given it was, in the main prompted by the fact that the class was entirely populated with 12 year old girls. I handled it terribly badly and things haven't particularly picked up from there! E took his place willingly, which found us trekking out to Dalston for a Saturday morning class for the one member of our family who's social calendar couldn't possibly fit anything more in.
Eventually I noticed a few boys attending, and when a space came up I booked K in. Some days he goes willingly, some days he refuses point blank. When he's there he seems to love it. And he's good at it. I don't pretend to understand. He's already talking about parkour so maybe I'll be able to keep him at gym for a while. At least until he can scale 6 feet walls in a single bound. Yikes. I wonder what City Academy will make of him (and him of it!!).
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