Why, yes, thank you, I am...completely....terrified.
Let me share with you the Top Ten Reasons why I don't necessarily want Pip in the adult class just yet:
- These are grown men. They talk about, ummm, shall we say...men things. Granted, they pretty much watch what they say around Darling Daughter, but she's a girl. I notice they don't worry so much about their comments when she's not within hearing range.
- Most of these guys are quite large. As in, they fight in competitions and they frequently lift weights and work out. Have I mentioned Pip is a tad bit undersized for 12 and a half??
- Again, the grown men-talk thing.
- Also, the instructor naturally spends a lot more time teaching the kiddos new techniques step-by-step and making sure they understand.
- And then there's the fact that at least one adult is watching every pair of kids while they spar to ensure no one gets hurt. No one watches them fight in the adult class. I guess you're just supposed to yell "OUCH!" if you get hurt.
- When people in the adult class are promoted to a new rank (earn a new belt color) they perform this weird little ritual. The new belt earner gets face down in the middle of the floor, all curled up into a ball with their head tucked under. Then...their classmates proceed to walk by, one at a time, and smack the ever-loving heck out of them with THEIR belts!
- I mean they literally whip the fool out of each other every time one of them gets promoted. The person who earns the new belt normally ends up purple, black and blue by the time they're done.
- Darling Daughter has decided that she will either NOT earn a new belt or she will grab the belt and put her track and cross country skills to work and RUN like the wind!
- I would be forced to roll some heads if they smack either of my babies.
- Anyway, that's just odd...don't you think??
The instructor has already moved two other boys into that class, and so far things seem to be going well for them. Of course, those boys are both over five feet tall and outweigh Pip by at least 35 pounds. And they rarely spar against the big dudes anyway. After all, they have my daughter to beat up on.
If I had any reservations about feeding Pip to the wolves, they were pretty much put to rest last night. As usual, I dropped him and Darling Daughter off at the gym for their classes. She sits through his one hour kid's class and does her homework. Then afterward, he sits through her two hour class, complains about how bored he is, and whines, pleads, and begs to be allowed to hit the mats with the older guys.
Not really, he sits there quietly. But he does ASK the instructor EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. when he can move up.
Yesterday his coach told him he could try it out. (I was completely unaware of this until I picked the two of them up later, so I totally didn't even get to hyperventilate or panic or worry or think too much or get ANY good mileage out of it.) Well, needless to say, Pip was ecstatic! He hit the mats and gave it his best shot. Literally.
You see, after sparring with the other two young teens in the class, Pip, who had already done HIS class and was getting a little tired, well...he fought his sister.
Yeah, the instructor clearly has NO clue just how dumb it was to pair those two up. Because they fight ALL the time here at home. All over my living room. And kitchen. And no, not like arguing or being mad at each other...just, you know, for fun. But they go at it full-force!
So they attacked each other in class. They grappled and fought and rolled and scrapped.
Pip broke his sister's nose.
Well, maybe. He popped her right across the face somehow. Last night it was red, swollen and very painful. This morning she has bruising under both eyes and she's swollen across the bridge of her nose, under both eyes and across both cheeks. Poor thing. She took several Tylenol and went on to school. We'll see how it looks this afternoon.
Not so much worried about my baby boy training with the men folk now. Obviously, he can hold his own.