Tuesdays Are For Turnen

“Turnen” is gymnastics in German.  On Tuesdays, we have a mutter-kind-turnen class.  It’s really for T-Rex, but Screech is welcome to tag along and get himself in to as much trouble as possible.  Thus, the class is ultimately more of a workout for me than either one of them.

The session starts with the same song.  Every time.  I can hum it in my head but couldn’t tell you the words.  The children march/run/hop/reach up on tippy toes/walk backward/etc around in what I am sure is an attempt at a circle.

Doc Sci took these pictures, hence why my behind is in way too many of them.

The teacher then walks around explaining each apparatus and what to do.  I usually understand about half of what is said.  We’re definitely not first to try anything as I need to watch some other kids before explaining to T-Rex.

Most of the class just happens to be little girls, further magnifying the occasional obnoxiousness of my boys.

For the next 35-40 minutes, I try to make sure Screech is not tripping other children, running under a boy flying on the rings, or lying on a mat right underneath a jump.

The teacher set up swings today. Achtung, Screech!

As if that did not take enough energy in and of itself, I must also make sure T-Rex isn’t falling from a height, stealing equipment from little girls, cutting in front of boys, or running full speed around the gym screaming at the top of his lungs.  German boys and girls do not scream in the gym.  In fact, I have no idea where they scream because I have never heard it.  Tsk, tsk, loud, crazy Americans.

Watch me, mama!

Seesaw, anyone?

Swinging and sliding, could a boy be any happier?

Yes, I'm rockin' the red fuzzy socks - no shoes allowed and the floor is COLD.

If you have ever wanted to fling your child around (safely & carefully of course), here's your chance.

When I am at my wits end and a quarter of my hair has been pulled out (by me or otherwise), it’s time to help put away the equipment.  I’m not very good at this.  I have to make sure my little one is not sticking his finger in a socket, turning on the radio at full blast, sneaking out the door, or drinking other kids’ juice.  He’s fast and furious when caught.

The German version of Aladdin's magic carpet ride.

Good thing dads come to turnen, too. There are two garage-fuls of schtuff to put away.

After the gym is clear, all children lie down in the middle of a parent circle.  They must pretend to be sleeping bears.  At the count of a predetermined number, the sleeping bears suddenly wake up and run like mad away from their bear mamas & papas who must hunt the little ones down and bring them back to the bear circle.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.

The end.

The class ends with another song (again, the same every week) and an attempt (by me) to corral my boys into the corner to get dressed and get out of there at a decent hour.  Easier said than done, fo’ sho’.

Now, why, oh why, do I put myself through this every week?  For starters, the boys looooooove it.  They also sleep verrrrry well on Tuesday nights (wink, wink!).  On top of that, it’s close by and incredibly cheap.  Sixty euros for one year.  Excedrin for the ensuing migraine sold separately.

What class(es) do you attend with your munchkins?  If you go to a gymnastics class, what’s it like?


One thought on “Tuesdays Are For Turnen

  1. Pingback: Trip Report: FRA — MCO (and back) « Thrifty Travel Mama

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