Mr. Husband is a very serious Olympics addict. Every two years, he parks his booty on the couch and watches every. single. moment of Olympics coverage. It doesn't matter if the event is Underwater Basket Weaving and the main contenders are from Liechtenstein and Montenegro, he's watching it. It makes him happy.

Alexis is a very serious Noggin addict. Every day, she parks her booty in her chair and harasses Mr. Husband until he converts into a human remote control and turns on Max and Ruby or whatever is on at the moment. It doesn't matter if the show is a mind-numbingly boring tale about a Latina Whore traversing a road, she's watching it. It makes her happy.

Put the two of them together and you have a recipe for LOTS of temper tantrums, not to mention how annoyed the Toddler gets when she doesn't get her way. It's really just OH! SO! FUN! for me.

Over the past few days, Mr. Husband has somehow won the vast majority of the battles for television supremacy. I may have had a little to do with his winning the battles, and not just because Hello, Mr. Phelps! I really would prefer that the kid didn't spend her day in daycare then come home and stand like a zombie in front of the TV. The adults can be zombies; she should color or play or harass me when she's not at school. Whatever.

Anyway, a few nights ago womens gymnastics came on while Alexis was happily coloring at her handy dandy craft table. She glanced up during the floor routine and was, quite simply, mesmerized. She put down the fat yellow crayon and stared and stared and stared as the girl ran and tumbled and jumped.

Alexis was clearly a fan. I don't know if the girl reminded her of Dora or what, but Alexis could not tear her eyes off the television screen.

And then suddenly she did.

Right before my eyes, the Toddler walked over to the rug in the middle of our wood floors and started doing somersaults. She? Was inspired. I? Was floored. And OH OH OH THE CUTE.

So cute.

Today I called and found a place that doesn't seem to take themselves too seriously and signed her up for gymnastics classes. I'm not sure how it is that Mr. Husband's Olympics obsession has turned into me giving up weekday coffee for the rest of the year, but whatever. Methinks the kid is a fan of the tumbling action and I'm willing to do what I need to for things to work with the old budget.

Psst, don't tell her that she can only grown another six inches and gain about ten pounds if she ever wants to be an Olympian. We don't want to crush her dreams, you know.