There are some moments and places where we make memories that remain indelible. One of those for me is Gymboree, both the retail store and the play spaces. Today Gymboree announced that they are filing for bankruptcy for the second time in three years. The eponymous play program spun off the retail arm years ago. But hearing the news about Gymboree brought back a slew of remembrances, some superficial, some deeper, all woven into the narrative of my son’s toddlerhood.
Gymboree clothes were like the Garanimals of my day. As long as you bought clothes within the same color family, even though some of the colors were outlandish, you were guaranteed that your child matched. To a mother whose sense of fashion was sorely lacking, Gymboree clothes were a godsend.
Gymboree (Shutterstock)
Our local Gymboree store had a play area in the back so that we moms could do a little shopping while keeping a wary eye on our kids. Back then, I latched onto a group of women who were also stay-at-home moms and in the frigid Northeast winter we would roam the mall with our energy-filled kids just to help them “shake their sillies” out. Much to the abject horror of the sales staff, we would sometimes stop at the Gymboree store to let the kids do a little leg stretching.
You see, my young son had already forged a one-sided love affair with Gymbo, the colorful, stuffed, mascot clown who ran the show at the Gymboree play center. At the tender age of one, I signed him up for a Gymboree play class. Moms and kids sat in a circle singing. To mark the end of the session, the kids would pile onto a multi-colored parachute and we moms (maybe some dads but I don’t recall any) would carry them in circles on top of the parachute. I remember a lot of giggling punctuated with lots of runny noses and crying. And despite the fact that after almost every class my son was laid low by the plague-still we continued to go.
As much as those little interludes at Gymboree were enjoyable, as a new mom they also gave me pause. Was my child social enough? I mean, look at all those other one-year-olds, they just seem so naturally sociable. And some of those kids had serious Olympic skills, crawling at breakneck speed through, under and over things. Mine, not so much. He bungled his way through the class, mainly falling over things and although he had the requisite motor skills, he seemed terribly complacent about making his way through the instructor-made maze. To my utter mortification, one day my toddler grew so frustrated with another that he bit him. Would my son, I worried silently, ever stop biting?
One day I excitedly brought my dad, who was visiting from out of town, to a Gymboree class to witness our young prodigy among his peers. “Oh, how he’ll enjoy this,” I thought. Instead of performing, that was the day my son decided he was not at all in the mood for Gymbo. He crawled away from the parachute, sat disinterestedly during the “crawl through the obstacles” portion of the class, sat mutely during the singing and angrily refused to hug Gymbo at the end, swatting him away instead.
Driving away, with my dad in tow and my young son nodding off into an exhausted sleep in the back, maybe I apologized to my dad or maybe he just sensed my self-doubt. I don’t remember. And, I don’t remember his exact words, but they were, as usual soft-spoken and comforting. “Don’t be so hard on him or on yourself, Helene.” he said, “You are a wonderful mother and he’s a wonderful little boy. It’ll all be okay.”
How right you were, Dad, and how I wish you had lived to see that wonderful boy grow into a kind and beautiful man who to my knowledge hasn’t bitten anyone without their consent in a while.
We did okay Dad. We really did. We miss you Dad and Gymbo too.
Related:
The First Twenty-Five Years Are the Hardest
What Happened When My Spirited Child Grew Up
Source: https://grownandflown.com/gymboree-places-and-people-remember/
The content is owned by Helene Wingens. Visit site here for other valuable articles.
No comments:
Post a Comment