Just. Say. No.

As I lay beside my restless 3 year old at nap time he asks me one of his random questions, "Mumma, can you do a cartwheel?"

My mind instantly rewinds to one year ago when I'd had, perhaps, too many glasses of vino and thought I'd morphed into a tweenaged nimble gymnast.

I answered, "Yes, I can.  And I'll show you when you wake up from your nap.  Now put your head on your pillow and close your eyes bud."

Well,  he never did nap that day.

And the cartwheel conversation quickly fell out of my mind as most things do these days.

The day went on.

Then.  After dinner while John was cleaning up the kitchen and I lazed on the couch like a useless nincompoop (this is a rare site indeed, I'll have you know) my son asked me if I could do 'that cartwheel'.

I drag my useless lazy ass up off the couch and say, "Sure!"

And proceed to do, what I'm a thousand percent sure, is the worst excuse of a cartwheel attempt.  EVER.

Now.  To my credit, the worst excuse of a cartwheel attempt was attempted IN my HOUSE.  Which, considering the hard wood floors and small space, is not the most practical place to be doing acrobatics.

So.  That being said, if I would've done the cartwheel out of doors like a sensible person I would've totally rocked the crap out of it.

FOR SURE.  

However.  I did not.

Now my son believes that putting his hands on the ground and simply hopping his feet from right to left is a pretty awesome cartwheel.

And who am I (but his ridiculous Mother that showed him how an atrocious cartwheel is done) to crush the poor little dude's soul???

*hanging my head in shame*

Just a word from the unwise.

If you are humble (unlike me) and admit that you cannot do certain stunts like cartwheels or back handsprings, simply youtube it.  Your child will never  might have a chance to be the next Mary Lou Retton.  Or not.  But at least no body, nor furniture gets hurt.

And no one ends up looking a fool.

And if you think you can actually do a cartwheel which I totally can do it out of doors.

Preferable where there are no trees, children's toys or bee hives.

A grassy knoll would be perfect.

And for God's sakes.  Please.  Do.  Not.  Forget.  To.  Stretch.

'Cause I don't know about you.  But I sure DON'T have the body of a nimble tweenaged gymnast.

At least...not anymore.

And I sure as hell felt the  lamest ever cartwheel attempt, the next day.

Ooof.