We went to see the circus school's end-of-year show last night.
Sort of like a grade-one graduation pageant.
I went to see my friend Christian-of-the-wide-grin and Laryssa, kick-ass Everquest girl.
Two hours later I wandered out, breathless and weaker in the knees than after my first Cirque du Soleil show.
And get this.
They were in "grade 1". One year. Of hard work. And they were sliding up silks and flinging off the trapeze.
And I walked out thinking:
"I would so be the coolest kid on the monkey bars in the park."
(part of me was also thinking "I would so be the coolest mom on the monkey bars.")
Part of me is wondering when the next session begins.
But first -- yoga class beckons, and our dearest Mr. Pyke awaits us there, shorts and flexible bones in tow.