We do two Gymboree classes, and today's was a Music class. Really, the premise is one I am not massively fond of: parents take their small children to a room with a lot of windows and dance and sing in full view of passers-by to the great bemusement of their offspring. However, the kids all seem to enjoy it, the toddler likes it a lot and so we go. The Music class is the one I'm more likely to attempt to get her father to take her to on the grounds that I have no rhythm and a tin ear, but when he is unable or incapacitated it falls to me.
Today it fell to me, and following an epic adventure involving a hike (we could have used a team of sherpas and some camels) to a seamstress to fix a very important dress we arrived just in time to administer emergency snacks and take our seats on the cushions.
Hugging Gymbo the clown. He came out to make sure the toddler was ok after a rather terrifying brush with a dog puppet. I don't know why she hates the dog but she does.
Maracas! We love maracas.
A pack of babies trying to get the most interesting stuff out of the busy box is not to be trifled with. Keep your hands inside the bus.
Success! She won't sing into it, mind. She thinks it's much funnier if Mama does.