For almost four years, Catie has told everyone that she wants to be a vet when she grows up. It started when she sat in the audience at Kindergarten Graduation as a two-year-old and marveled at the big kids answering the question. She was ready with her own answer…a vet! a vet! a vet!
This week, at her own Graduation, she announced, she would be a gymnast.
A six-foot gymnast.
Well, of course she didn’t say that, but according to her genes for height, it’s a real possibility. I’m 5’10, and although that may allow me room in the eating ice cream every night and not weighing three-hundred pounds department, it does nothing for a promising career in gymnastics.
Believe me. In the ‘80s I shared a haircut with Mary Lou Retton, but, sadly, we did not share the 5-foot physique needed to accomplish greatness on the uneven bars.
And although Catie has a lot of promising qualities, athletic focus does not seem to be one of them. She can hold her own in swimming-pool races, cartwheeling across the living room, and riding her bike around and around the cul-da-sac. But she does it only for the approval from her eager audience of one (me). With that element removed, she’s really more happy creating imaginary worlds where she can help people or sitting and learning about animals.
If the six-foot gymnast thing doesn’t work out, there’s always vet school.
