Monday the kids had their second gymnastics class. It went really well; they were a little timid at the beginning but quickly joined in. I was able to go and sit upstairs in the viewing area, which was a huge accomplishment. As I sat up there I was really thrilled to see Sunshine listening to her teacher and working with her class. I was watching Mr. too, and he seemed eager to be in the class as well, until his teacher would turn around. Then he would wonder, or run, off. The poor teacher had to keep bringing him back. Most of the time he thought it was funny; except, of course, for the time he spit at her (disciplinary action followed there and at home). As I watched her bring him back over and over I realized that I am raising Spaceman Spiff (of Calvin and Hobbes). I'm sure that many mothers of little boys feel this way, but I truly wonder sometimes if he actually sees the teacher as a giant alien. Anyway, the class went well and much was learned. Not just how to tumble and swing from a bar, but how to be respectful of other adults, interact in a new setting, and many other important everyday skills. The moments are small, and I do not always feel like the message is getting through, but I can see the little victories. As each lesson builds on the last they grow a little stronger and a little smarter, and I feel very blessed to be the one guiding them through this adventure of growing up.