Jump Rope

I am signing up my girls for a Jump Rope class.

My father, the atheist, who has just re-read the New Testament (for kicks), thinks this might be a sign of The End; this and the third graders plotting their teacher's murder. Since I don't remember anything of the New Testament and as I am the only one who hasn't heard the story of the murderous third grade gang, I guess I'll just go with him.

It IS pathetic that there a classes for jump rope. Didn't we all just learn those games in the school yard or in the driveway? Was I supposed to teach that...too? I can hold the rope for them, and they can hold it for each other, but there are rarely enough kids around in my kids' backyard to make these basic games happen for real. Too many of them are too busy with classes of other kinds. So, what's next? Will there be semesters to teach Pickle, Spud, or Statue?

My girlfriend says of the Jump Rope class, "Maybe they'll bring what they learn to the playground."

Maybe they will and that's what sold me on the idea entirely.

Not to mention, I can't teach jump rope. I demonstrated it to my girls about 6 months ago and thought I might have a heart attack. I thought I might lose one or both of my boobs and felt my brain ACTUALLY SMASH into my skull.

NEVAH AGAIN, I said, NEVAH. This is the sport of breast-less children.

I do however have some interest in renewing my love of Chinese Jump Rope: the extra big stretchy cord we wrapped around our ankles and a partner’s while a third “jumper” engaged in elaborate tangles, getting caught up and then escaping in one wickedly cool flow.

That's the cerebral kind of jump rope I'm game for now, with less threat of boob loss. My flat-chested (for now) beauties, those backyard girls: I'm giving them double-dutch.