I had the immense pleasure this morning of taking Julius (the four-year-old) to his final gymnastics class for the year. It was a big Christmas break-up lesson and all the various groups got the chance to go through their paces together. There is nothing quite as gorgeous as a group of variously talented four-, five- and six-year-olds doing such routines as reaching up to a horizontal bar above their heads (or being lifted up) so that they can lift their legs up, lower them again, jump down onto the floor, and do the “presentation” (one arm up in the air if you are a boy, both arms spread wide if you are a girl. Just like the Olympics).
It’s interesting how, if you can find something that will motivate a child, it can be just like operating them by remote control. At one stage Jules decided he had done enough, and came and sat down next to me. I said to him that if he didn’t go back in with the other kids he might miss out on his certificate. He was back in there before I had even finished the sentence.
At the end of the lesson everyone got their certificate, and Santa Claus turned up to give out bags of lollies. Julius tells me it was really Santa. I didn’t get close enough to have a proper look, but Jules is a much better judge of such things than I am.
