Exercises for my heart

- I don't want to go. I'm too scared.

He clings to your side, refusing to enter the hall.

You check with the teachers that it's OK if his big brother and older neighbour stay with him this first time, even though they've moved up to the next group, then you forcibly carry him inside.

He bursts into tears, holds on to you even tighter.

You extricate yourself, go hide out of sight, heavy hearted. Are you really doing the right thing, leaving him there in his first gym class, barely 4 years old, just because you think it will do him good, your not-so-physically-daring child? After all, his brother was a whole year older when he started.

You peek out from your hiding spot. He's huddled on the floor, thumb in mouth, refusing to even look at anyone.

You worry some more.

You peek out again, catch the teacher's eye, give a questioning thumbs up.

He's joining in, she mouths.

Your heart lightens a little. You take a look, and indeed, there he is, climbing up the ladders then dropping to the mattress below. Carefully, not very high, but still.

Then he's trying the rings, really trying to swing on them by his arms, getting better each time. And his brother and neighbour are there, helping him, encouraging him. Your heart lightens some more.

Next there's a tag game. His brother chases him in exaggerated slow motion, letting his little brother win.

Your heart nearly breaks at how kind your older child is being.

Then he sees you, and breaks out into a delighted grin.

Did you see mummy? I'm doing the gym!

That's when your heart soars.