It’s something else isn’t it? Watching something you made–Or at least grew and gave birth to, grow into a person with a personality, thoughts and opinions of their own. Of course this is gradual. I mean it starts when they’re babies and shove away the peas on a spoon. Then it evolves into requests for a certain book, song, or TV show. Then maybe a favorite dress, or pair of shoes. And then before you know it their requests and passions are dictating your schedule.

My daughter first started gymnastics about three years ago. She was just a toddler and participated in a mother’s morning out program with gymnastics twice a week. It was obvious she had no natural talent so I did what any irrational wannabe-tiger-parent would do and signed her up for an entirely different activity. This time it was dance: Ballet, tap, jazz and then a hip hop class on the side.

That was fun. We enjoyed it, but after a couple of years I got tired of hunting down the lost tap shoe minutes before class started. And days and days of recitals (and recital fees) so we decided to hang up the tutus. She didn’t object, or put up any sort of fight. In fact she was happy with her art class and we were starting homeschool. We didn’t have time for much else.

Fall hit and that meant football. A lot of football. Every year for the games Lil’ J gets decked out in team spirit with pom poms, jerseys and/or cheer outfits. She roots and chants little cheers I remember from high school.

On the vision board she made last year she has a photo of the BYU cheerleading squad. Apparently this is a dream of hers. I say apparently because I know her mind can change and even if not, it’ll be a stretch but HEY… I’m not ever one to knock down someone from their big dreams.

We signed her up for some trial tumbling classes and though she was admittedly not very good, she still wanted to go each week. As an early Christmas gift we bought her a couple months of private lessons for her to work on her technique.

Week after week I’d watch and cringe as she’d stumble out of a cartwheel, or botch a handstand.

“Is it even worth keeping this up if they aren’t any good? I mean how much time do you give someone?” I’d say to my husband. I mean we know she wasn’t born with a natural ability and that’s ok. I believe with hard work, anything is possible. But how long do you let the delusion go on?

“She’s a kid!” My husband would say to me. “Only 6! She doesn’t need to be good, she just needs to have fun.”

He’s always coming at me with sense and stuff.

I decided to back off a bit. Not that I was saying any of these things to her–This was me just internalizing and ranting to my husband. But I chilled out and just encouraged her. I offered to help her practice, take pictures or record her if she wanted. I’d stay after and ask her coach if there was anything we could work on between lessons.

I don’t know exactly what happened. It seems like one day I was begging her to practice and the next she didn’t want to stop. She walks into lessons ready to listen and learn and try her best. She asks me to text her coach with updates on her progress at home. She can hold a handstand and do a backbend with ease. She’s surpassed any gymnastics talent I’ve ever had, and with hard work, she’s actually getting pretty good.

And she’s set some goals of her own. I’m still working on my 2017 goals but she has her list set. She wants to eat healthier, work out with daddy and get her back and front walkover (by her birthday in July). I don’t think that will be a problem for her.

Who is this person? This person who once did backflips in my uterus. This little 6-year-old who has not only opinions but dreams and goals.

She is my child, emerging as her own person.

{Lil’ J is 6 years and 6 months old at the time of this post.}

Tags: dreams, goals, gymnastics, lil' j, new year