I've been looking for something PT for Chase to be in this summer...not that he doesn't have mad physical strength already, but he could use some help still with running, jumping, and foot over foot stair climbing. Not to mention the fact that the child has energy like a nuclear reactor.
So I took him this morning to a trial class at a local gymnastics place. I talked to the front desk lady beforehand, told her about Chase and asked what class she thought he might fit into best. She (kind of to my surprise) suggested we try out the 3-4 year old class. Oh, and she had a sister with Down syndrome and she thought Chase would LOVE it. Perfect.
So we go. And although Chase had a good time, I was a little disappointed to admit that it is just a bit over his head. I mean, he attempted everything that they were doing, and the instructor was very patient with him, and there were only 3 others in the class...but his attention span and general ability to follow directions are just.not.there. Not yet.
Honestly, I know putting him in the 2-3 year old class would be fine. He would probably fit in great there. He'd probably fit in, do fantastic, and have a blast. But secretly? I hate that. I hate admitting that he can't fly with his peers. I feel like it is admitting defeat.
Bah. Screw you, Down syndrome.