Several months ago (like in March!) I took Lucas to open gymnastics at the Prince George's Sports and Learning Complex. He loved it. LOVED it. Loved it so much that he asks to go to "nymnastics" often. The problem is that the wacky schedule of open gymnastics often doesn't mesh with my days home. Or, the times are smack-dab in the middle of his nap. So, we've only be there a few times (like twice!).
After our Tuesday morning play date was cancelled I realized that there was open gymnastics so decided we'd go there instead. I told Abel about my plans Monday night but did not intend to tell Lucas until we were there. Just in case. Just in case something went wrong.
Abel, however, had other plans. First thing Tuesday morning he told Lucas I was taking him to gymnastics then promptly left for work. So, I enjoyed approximately 4 hours of Lucas: begging to go to "nymnastics now mama!" "nymnastics, mama?" "MAMA, nymnastics!!!"
L O N G morning indeed.
Finally, it was time to leave. Actually, it wasn't time to leave but we left anyway because walking around outside the complex or watching the older kids in the gymnastics arena certainly had to be more fun than convincing Lucas to play or do something--anything--other than ask about going to gymnastics.
When we arrived the parking lot was suspiciously empty.
When I got Lucas out of the car a truck pulled up. A nice older man told us the whole place was closed...something about a broken pipe.
Lucas was inconsolable. Heartbroken. It was awful. Just awful. Ten solid minutes (which of course felt like 10 solid years) of me just saying "I'm so sorry Lucas" and him crying "NOT BROKEN" "nymnastics NOT broken Mama" "don't say sorry, say yes! nymnastics".
Oh, my darling baby, if only my saying yes would make it so.
Finally I got him back into the car seat and we hightailed it over to a nearby Chick-fil-A. Some time in their playroom, a kids meal and a shared milkshake made everything okay.
We got home and he went down for a nap, probably just as mentally exhausted as physically exhausted. I thought he had gotten over it.
Until he woke up two hours later sobbing: "mama, nymnastics".