I really have no idea, do I?

I took my sweet, relaxed Rudy to Gymboree this morning while Marley was in preschool. I've been meaning to do something like this for a while, because by the time Bean was one, she had been to Gymboree; countless laptimes at our library; and through a community family network, itsy bitsy yoga and two playgroups.

Rudy was sort of shocked and (pleasantly) overwhelmed by the mommy one-on-one time. And then there was the actual climbing, jumping, and sliding. She was more than happy to give it all a try, but she was just as happy to stay in one spot on a floor mat and bounce on her bum with her hands in the air. She was such a Toot the whole time. And by that I mean, so chill and deliberate, and appreciating the little things. More than once, she actually laid on her tummy and smiled as she put her head down to rest. On one of the toddler obstacle courses, she climbed up halfway, slooooowly, then settled back, crossed her little ankles, and then turned to look intently at the kid behind her. (And I guess I really mean kid, because Rudy's at least three months younger than the other toddlers there, but we have to go on Tuesdays when Bean's in school.)

So there were quite a few little pile-ups behind Rudy each time she started on one of the Gymboree set-ups. And I was laughing and loving my little zen friend while I told the other parents it was okay for their kids to go by Rudy, but I also had this fleeting thought: "Well, I guess Rudy's not going to be an athlete either." Which is so dumb, I know. She's one.

But here's Marley in her ballet and tap class working the toe-heel strut. (I know. We need a new camera. The fuzziness that used to only be in one corner and that I could sometimes eliminate with a little lens rub is beginning to encroach on entire pictures no matter what I do. I would really like a fantastic camera that I can't afford any more than I can afford any ONE of the precious clothes or toys in the Chasing Fireflies catalogues that I swear, I get every week. STOP SENDING THEM! I'M NOT A CELEBRITY MOM WITH DISCRETIONARY INCOME FOR ADORABLENESS! I DON'T EVEN REALLY HAVE AN INCOME!)

Back to Bean. She is a ballerina. I just don't see her racing down a field or court and competing aggressively for ANY sort of ball, the way I see, oh, her cousin Emma doing. In fact, I know as soon as Marley witnesses a cheerleading squad in action, it's all over.

And I feel as though even though I know kids grow and change and go through phases, I also know that kids have certain personality traits that appear to be consistent. And Rudy is like her dad: thoughtful and relaxed and slow. She was exhausted and a little bit cranky after her hectic Gymboree morning, and collapsed on her Lambie as soon as I put her in her crib for her afternoon nap. The way she does every night.

So, I could be completely wrong about all of this. Maybe by high school Marley will be done with gymnastics, and she'll be the quickest, sneakiest, tiniest point guard in the league. Maybe instead of spending her after school hours in an ashram or some other meditative place, Rudy will be the 400m relay anchor. (Maybe - gasp - they'll both be rascals who don't do their homework and lounge on the couch watching hours of what Bean refers to as "Girl TV.")

Or maybe Rudy just felt like taking things slow today. For no reason.

Or maybe it has something to do with how she just woke up from her nap. Crying. With a fever. Oh, Rudy.