My daughter started tennis lessons last month, and the spring session wraps up this week. I feel like I have been running myself ragged driving to soccer practice, soccer games, and then tennis lessons. Next week I will enter into a place of pure freedom, where I can actually return text messages and take showers during the day.
I haven’t had my hair done in so long that I am now sporting a trend that I like to call “ombre by accident”.
Anyway, tennis has opened my eyes to a whole new world where parents are shiny and drive Range Rovers. I pull up in my old Buick and hope that trash doesn’t fall out.
The instructors have voices like Cinderella and look like supermodels.
M loves tennis. Luckily for her she inherited her dad’s hand eye coordination. I am always very impressed at her ability to hit the ball. She does a great job for only being four years old.
I think tennis is a sport that she will be sticking with, so I suppose I should enjoy my free time next week and perhaps I will clean out my car.
Or perhaps I won’t.