I tried. I really, really tried.

This week I took Parker to the adaptive PE class he would be attending if he went to school.  We got there several minutes early, so we sought out the gym and waited.

I couldn’t take pictures because a) privacy issues and b) I forgot my camera.

Things got started with a warm up song in which we all stood in our very best flamingo poses.  Parker needed a wee bit of help with his pose.  Okay, he needed a whole lot of help.  It’s no easy feat to keep one of your kid’s legs straight while trying to bend the other perpendicular to it while trying to convince your child not to climb up your back.

All was going well until the Coach told everyone to get down on their tummies on the floor and pretend to be an animal of their classmate’s choice.

Parker’s rendition included licking the gym floor.

After a slight moment when the world seemed to stop, I tried to convince myself that licking a gym floor wasn’t the worst thing in the world.  I’m sure he’d pick up way more germs licking the toilet rim or something.

Maybe.

That’s when my Mommy gut kicked in.

I’ve spent the last 6 years trying to keep Parker alive.  Is it really worth it to take a chance with his health just to take him to an adaptive PE class twice a week?

Yup, there are great things that Parker could learn.  Like how to sit on a little colored circle.  And to stand like a flamingo.  And to mingle with some friends.  Cause I gotta admit the kids in that class were fabulous.  So welcoming and encouraging to each other.

This morning I woke up still wondering if taking Parker to school for adaptive PE was truly in is best interest.  Just as I finished my thought, the phone rang.  It was Parker beloved PT from the last few years offering to still work with Parker at home.

Not one to ignore an obvious message from God, I accepted.  I may have even tried to show my gratitude by trying to kiss her feet over the phone.

There will be a time for Parker to go to school.

This just isn’t it.

And that’s okay.