We joined a Gymboree class here in the big city. For those of you that don't know the toddler lingo, Gymboree is a big open room with lots of things to climb and roll down and slide on. During classes, a teacher does group activities on the center mat, sings songs, and blows bubbles.
Little Man hates it.
A very specific part of it, actually: the teacher led portion. The rest of it--the running, the climbing, the rolling--he loves. For the past few classes he's tolerated the group activities, but today he simply refused, and no amount of coaxing would get him involved. So while the other children rolled the air log to music and played with Baby Gymbo, Little Man did his own thing.
And I worried. I know, I know, he's not even two yet. And he gets along fine with adults, and there are a few select little people he doesn't run screaming from. But I still worried: did I wait to long to socialize him with children his own age? Was the class too much for him? Should I enroll him in a younger class? Is he overwhelmed?
I worried all the way home, and all the way through lunch. And then Little Man brought me his "Wheels on the Bus" book, and as I read it to him, he did all the hand motions the other children had learned that day in class. After the book, I sang another song from Gymboree class. Little Man's face lit up and bopped along with me, doing all the motions. Lastly, I sang a rhythm song, sure he wouldn't be able to keep up with the complicated clapping and pounding, especially since he'd totally ignored it in class.
I was delighted when Little Man proved me wrong, clapping and pounding and stomping his feet, and then requesting to sing it again.
I'm no longer worried.
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