I've been trying to avoid the pitfalls of Barney (yeesh) and other assorted sundry and scary commercial beasts in the raising of Miss Mia. This has included staying away from parent-in-a-box places that charge you and arm and a leg to do what you can probably do for free in your own home. Case in point: Gymboree. Gymboree is the millenium's answer to playgroup, an offshoot of a successful clothes store (or is the clothes store an offshoot of the playgroup?). At any rate, Mia and I have been happily attending good old Chicago Park District playgroup for the past 8 months and really liking it so I thought we didn't need that yuppie shit. But today, I wondered ... well, do we?
They offer free preview classes and so we signed up and attended one today. It was filled with what I feared: parents in khaki, Barneyesque songs and a dancing clown named Gymbo. But Mia was stoked. She partied like it was 2020! So a mother torn. And a mother called. Yes, I'm certainly not shelling out the bucks for this but my mom is just enough into this kind of stuff to go for it. Sure enough she thinks it might be a good idea.
I haven't decided yet, but I've got to start standing firm. Otherwise all my rules will be broken and my house will be overrun with Barbies, toy guns and Raffi.
