at the Atlantic Club in Manasquan. He skipped the late summer/early fall sessions because the warm air in the bubble was too much for Ella. And to walk outside with her prevented me watching Timmy.
Last week, his instructor was this young, neat, thin, blond girl and he was delighted. She was dynamic, got them running and moving before settling into some interesting drills. When she asked what a forehand was, Timmy knew and demonstrated! She taught them two-handed backhand.
None of the kids were first-timers, but the four-year-olds struggled. After his lesson, Tim wanted to hang around and watch the next class. I think he wanted to watch her! But I knew there wasn't another class and, as he saw her leaving the court, he decided to leave also and chit-chatted with her as we made our way to the car.
This week, to my disappointment, the boy from the summer taught Tim's class. His black hair is greasy and tousled. He wears this hideous puka shell choker. His baggy black sweats were pulled down behind to reveal formfitting black silk underpants. I was completely grossed out. If a guy could be a scank, he's it. I will say this, in his favor: his arms were more muscular than a few months ago. That helped a little. But his class is boring. He doesn't keep them busy and Tim was goofing off.
When Timmy hits the tennis ball, he kicks his right foot back. Even the girl in the pink warmups doesn't do that. I thought to myself, "This is dance class ... for Tim." There are positions that he must take to hit the ball. He enjoys putting himself in those positions. I prefer sports that either boys or girls can do ... ones that are relatively safe and not necessarily competitive.
So, this is what we're doing on Saturday mornings until late February.
Last week, his instructor was this young, neat, thin, blond girl and he was delighted. She was dynamic, got them running and moving before settling into some interesting drills. When she asked what a forehand was, Timmy knew and demonstrated! She taught them two-handed backhand.
None of the kids were first-timers, but the four-year-olds struggled. After his lesson, Tim wanted to hang around and watch the next class. I think he wanted to watch her! But I knew there wasn't another class and, as he saw her leaving the court, he decided to leave also and chit-chatted with her as we made our way to the car.
This week, to my disappointment, the boy from the summer taught Tim's class. His black hair is greasy and tousled. He wears this hideous puka shell choker. His baggy black sweats were pulled down behind to reveal formfitting black silk underpants. I was completely grossed out. If a guy could be a scank, he's it. I will say this, in his favor: his arms were more muscular than a few months ago. That helped a little. But his class is boring. He doesn't keep them busy and Tim was goofing off.
When Timmy hits the tennis ball, he kicks his right foot back. Even the girl in the pink warmups doesn't do that. I thought to myself, "This is dance class ... for Tim." There are positions that he must take to hit the ball. He enjoys putting himself in those positions. I prefer sports that either boys or girls can do ... ones that are relatively safe and not necessarily competitive.
So, this is what we're doing on Saturday mornings until late February.
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