It’s gymnastics competition time of year, again. So, let me open my wallet.
The first big meet is in Las Vegas. They call it a MEGA Meet because there will be hundreds of competitors. Dozens of teams. And many, many gymnastics Moms. I will be one of them. (In spirit, at least.)
Isabella (she’s 10) is excited, but the scheduling just sucks. It happens over the weekend that Daddy/Daughter Fun Time’s mother is organizing the Academy Awards annual reception co-sponsored by the Society of Composers and Lyricists. (You know, with Sting and Lin-Manuel Miranda and others…)
Also: Isabella will need to miss a day and-a-half of school.
Iz: Daddy, I just want you to know that I am Ok with missing school.
Me: Really? Shocking. Let Mommy and me talk about it.
Iz: Ok, but just so you know, I’m totally fine with missing school. We’re just, like, learning stuff.
Now, long-time readers of this blog know that Isabella is quite accomplished as a gymnast. And, they keep moving her up the competitive food chain. Her coaches warn: “Don’t expect to score high this time because everything is tougher now.”
So, Mommy and I discuss the logistics, the travel, the expense, the injuries, the threat of disappointment shown on a 10-year-old’s face.
Sounds like fun. We’re in!
Iz: Yay! But, I’ll have to miss a day of my dear, dear school.
Me: Oh?… Or, we can also not go.
Iz: Well, when you put it like that… Yay! Vegas!
So, Thursday mid-after school, Daddy/Daughter Fun Time rolls with Isabella and Daddy (Me!) in tow. Mommy holds down the Oscars fort, and swings us incredibly cheap hotel accommodations at Circus Circus (Isabella’s favorite Vegas place. Me, not so much. But it’s her weekend.)
Friday morning, Isabella is nervous. She’s now competing on a bigger stage, against seasoned competitors, in a new class.
First up: Floor exercise. 9.500. Gold. Vault: 8.900. Gold. Bars: 9.750. Silver. Beam. 9.025. Gold.
All-Around: 36.175. (You guessed it): Gold.
Her coaches tell/threaten/challenge her, if you break 36.0 again, you’ll have to move up another level.
Mommy and I couldn’t be more proud of her. Her 12-year-old sister: “Whatever.”
The drive home was mostly uneventful. In fact, we got home before Mommy did.
And then the Oscars happened, and we didn’t know what to believe.