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For a couple weeks now, Theo and I have been going to his baby gym class on Friday mornings. Itís not at a good time. In fact, itís at the worst timeóduring his morning nap. No, Iím not a complete idiot. I signed him up for an afternoon class but we got consolidated.

Anyway, there are these two sweet little girls in class, the babies redóRuby and Scarlettówho are, like, perfect. Theyíre social and adorable and they high-five. (High five! Why didnít I think to teach Theo that?!) And their hair always looks so nice. And then thereís Max. The teachers love Max. He give kisses on demand and knows when his shoes are on the wrong feet.

Meanwhile, Theo clutches my leg and hides. No high-fives, no kisses. His hair is a staticy mess once it emerges from his hat. He sucks on the rubber balls and animals that the other kids are tossing about. Oh, and he has bouts of tears every class.

Itís not all bad. Theo loves the climbing and the bubbles and scooting through the tunnel and all of the clapping. But I still feel shitty after every class. I know itís his naptime. And I know that every one of these kids is older than Theoóand that even being older by one month makes a big difference at this age. But I canít help but compare and wonder if Iím doing something wrong.

The good news: It took only one try to get Theo to high five. And, well, just look at him after taking his delayed nap. For our mutual sanity, I think weíre going to have to switch to an afternoon music class. Please, please, please let there be a minimum of group singing.
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