Some day, many many years from now, a teenage Taylor is going to look her father in the face and plead and cry for something that he will not give her. And she will probably scream at him and tell him that he never lets her have anything or do anything or what-have-you. And at that moment, I will intervene and show her this picture:
Yes, future teenage-Taylor, that is your sweet loving father, carefully sewing the strap back into your ballet shoe so the four-year-old-you can wear them to dance the next morning. He loves you more than you will ever know.
A couple weeks ago
Chris scored four tickets to a weekend UNCA men’s basketball game. We didn’t
have anything going on, and decided going to watch some Bulldog basketball would
be a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. We had to wake Luke up early from
his nap to make tip-off, and to supplement the extra sleep he was used to, we
just gave him a few sips of Sprite, resulting in Chris and I taking turns
following him as he ran hotlaps around the concourse.
And while
alternating Luke-duty, we were able to see the Bulldogs pull off a victory, and
watch Taylor keep all focus on the cheerleaders. Our
favorite babysitter, Becca, is on the cheer and dance team, and was sweet
enough to come up to our seats a couple of times before and during the game to
give Taylor a big hug and let her hold her poms. My daughter was in heaven.
So when Becca let
me know that the cheerleaders were holding their first ever Cheer and Dance Clinic
for little people last Saturday, I knew that Taylor would explode with excitement to
participate. And all I had to say was, Hey Taylor, would you like to learn how
to be a cheerleader like Becca? and she started bouncing around the room
squealing, I’M GOING TO CHEER SCHOOL! It was like popping a balloon filled with
confetti. It was everywhere, and all we could talk about until the big day.
She was so wound up
that she didn’t even flinch when I told her that in order to take part in it
she would have to wear a black t-shirt and black cheer shorts. Which to most
people would be no biggie, but Miss T hasn’t worn shorts or an outfit without
the color pink on it since she was Luke’s age. And after we got home from
buying her new uniform the day before the clinic, she immediately put on her
new threads and strutted her stuff around the house until bedtime.
And because Cheer
and Dance Clinic rivals Christmas Day for a small girly-girl such as Taylor, it only made sense that we also bring
along her BFF, Elliot.
Best. Day. Ever.
There were about
forty little girls between the ages of five and eleven participating, with
Taylor and Elliot being two of the youngest. And I was so proud of both of
them, as they both stepped up and blended in with the older girls.
First they got into
a big circle and stretched.
And then they went
around that circle, telling everyone their name and why they liked
cheerleading. Taylor liked the pom poms.
Everyone moved into
the practice courts and learned a few chants, and then broke into age
appropriate groups to individually learn cheers.
Of course we had
snack breaks.
And then back to
learning the routine that all the girls would be performing at halftime of the
women’s basketball game that afternoon.
They even did a
short tumbling section, where the itty’s practiced their somersaults and jazz
hands.
At the end of the
clinic, the whole group assembled to practice the entire routine. And they
passed out pink pom poms. And Taylor and Elliot’s heads almost exploded.
We then went home
to eat lunch and take a short break, after which we met everyone back at the
game to cheer on the women’s team and get geeked up for the big performance.
Making her way onto
the court.
The big show.
How adorable was
that? I can’t even explain how proud I am of Taylor and Elliot and all of those
precious girls.
It was definitely a
day we will never forget, and I’m pretty sure we have a future cheerleader in
our house now.
We have been
blessed with some fantastic weather lately, and to be able to play at the park
in the first week of February is yet another reason why I love where I live. So
when I sent an email out to some of the other parents of kids in Taylor’s
preschool class suggesting an after-school park playdate to make use of the
65-degree wonderfulness, almost all of them jumped all over it. And who
wouldn’t? Vitamin D and exhausted kiddos are a great combo.
When my brother was
a wee lad, he and my Dad would spend many hours in the back yard playing catch.
Baseball, football and whatever other catch-able ball they could throw at each
other. In the winter months, they would move the game inside, with Will
standing at one corner of the room, chucking balls at my Dad in his recliner at
the other end. It was never ending. Even when my Dad wasn’t playing, Will would
still wind up and throw things at him, catching him off-guard many times,
hitting him in the chest or face, and resulting in my Dad forming a nervous
tick of sorts whenever someone around him swung their arms in a throwing
motion.
And just like his
Godfather, my Luke has developed a strong arm and a love of throwing. And after
being surrounded by Princesses and Barbies for the past four years, Chris has
welcomed the nonstop ball throwing with open arms. Literally.
And not to brag,
but Pookie has a pretty good arm. From an early age, without coaching, he has
been able to throw a decent spiral. And not just with a ball, pretty much
everything he can palm gets clutched in his right hand, cocked back behind his
shoulder and released with a enough force to hit you square in the gut while
standing five feet away.
So when you see
this, get ready to catch something. Or be prepared for something to bounce off
of you.
The other day the kids and I were just hanging out in the living room, enjoying the warm sunshine that was pouring through the windows onto the hardwood. It had been raining nonstop since I had gotten off the plane the weekend before, and you don't realize how much you miss the sun until it's stuck behind gloomy clouds for five days. And when I saw some of the cuteness that was unfolding before me, I jumped up and grabbed my big camera. Pushing play on my SLR, I realized I hadn't snapped a picture with my Nikon since Christmas Day. Shameful. As much as I love the convenience of my iPhone camera, it doesn't come close to producing the images my real camera can.
