Sunday mornings are made of sparkle and pep, courtesy of a tumbly little girl who prefers to stand on the sidelines than be in the game.
True story, that. Once upon a time, that tumbly little girl and I had that exact conversation. "Would you rather be in the game scoring the points or on the sidelines?" I asked. She knew then what she still believes now; the sidelines are her thing.
No worries, though. Version 2.0 gives me hope for having a reason to watch the main action. Version 2.0, aka Mila, already gravitates towards the things her sister finds boring. Give her a room filled with dolls, and Mila will seek out the toy car. The girl never met a pile of dirt she didn't want to roll in. Best of all, "helping" shoot hoops breaks her out of a grumpy funk. (Have I mentioned that basketball is my thing? That it is THE BEST THING EVER? It is.)
Hope. Just a little bit of hope.
Every Sunday that ray of hope joins me in the stands and watches as her sister double back handsprings her way across the sidelines while yelling and grinning from ear-to-ear. If hope relied on a glimpse of maaaaaybe being done with this whole cheer thing as far as Alexis was concerned, hope would be a crumbly black lump of coal.
It ain't happening. That kid loves her some cheer. To her core.
So while happiness blooms from Alexis as she cheers, Mila watches. Or, rather, she doesn't watch. She much prefers to climb in the stands, push her little toy car all over the place, stack toys, or steal my snacks. She doesn't pay much attention, is what I'm saying.
Except that this week little miss Mila, she who is my beacon of hope, she who I'd love to have grow to hate sparkle and shine, she HAS BEEN PAYING ATTENTION. Despite her apparent oblivion to that which surrounds her, Mila started trying to do cheers with the cheerleaders. She yelled "Go, *team name*!" She clapped along with another cheer. She stomped when she was told by 20 screamy girls to stomp.
So while there's hope, that hope doesn't live in a bubble. That hope is surrounded by what I like to call the darkside.
I have no idea what that'll get me in 8 years or so, but I think maybe I better keep stocking up cheer mom stuff.