Mary Lou

I paid $3 an hour for random strangers to watch my kid
today. Don’t worry. It was at a
gymnastics center. Gymnasts are, for
the most part, good people right? They
are usually really little and cute. Every gymnast, in my mind, is Mary Lou Retton.  Who doesn’t trust Mary Lou Retton with their
kid? Come on! I dropped my son off at 10:30 and picked him up at 2:15. It was a bargain at $12.00 for the entire
time. They are offering this service
every day this week from 10:00-8:00 and I am thinking that my son might become
a pretty familiar fixture around there.

It was so nice to spend some Q-time with my daughter and
have a pleasant, quiet lunch. I went
with a friend to P.F. Chang’s. We dined on lettuce wraps and pseudo-fancy Chinese cuisine. We had peaceful conversation and did a
little shopping. It was freakin’
fabulous.

My son was very happy to see me when I picked him up. He was sweaty and red-faced and had clearly been playing very hard. I asked him if he would
like to return another day this week and he immediately replied, “yes.” Score! The only downside to the whole thing was the fact that there was no real
system in place for dropping off and picking up your kids. Anyone could have picked up my son. They did not even know who I was. This made me a bit uneasy. My friend, however, knew the staff there
fairly well and assured me that they were good, trustworthy people. That fact, coupled with my Pavlov-esque
gymnast/Mary Lou Retton association, made me feel better about leaving him
there. I smiled just thinking about
Mary Lou picking my son up and putting him on the balance beam. She would praise him for his wobbly walk in
her perky, Mary Lou way and he would beam and blush with pride. It was bound to be a positive
experience. So what if I had to sign a
blanket waiver, right?