Like Mama? Disturbingly so. . .

I'm clumsy.  Disturbingly so.  I hoped, oh how I hoped, that my children would inherit Aunt Manny's athletic prowess.  After attending two gymnastics classes, I can say assuredly that Ell did not inherit those skillz.  Anyone I've told this to says, "He's just two!"  or "I'm sure everyone is like that."  Chris attended yesterday and looked at me and said, "I get it."  This is certainly a good use of our dollars each month, because we now know that he's more like mommy than just in looks and having the memory of an elephant.  Further proof:

How I Know He's Mine

Tonight after we (finally) got home, Elliott decided to run around in socks, tennis shoes and. . . a diaper. Yep. Hawt. Upon hearing he could have some lime jello, he jumped from the table, promptly tripped over his own feet. He landed on his side with his face mushed against the tile floor. Tears? No. He spoke to himself, "I okay. I okay. I okay."

Not sure what it says about my mothering that I had to turn the other way in order for him not to see my church giggles.