Yoga, baby

Mila and I go to “parent & child yoga” on Friday mornings. It’s a weird combination of this:

source

and this:

Ten of the (I think) nineteen second cousins on my mom’s side. SO MANY BABIES.

and even though there’s this one baby who cries every time her mom tries to do any pose involving lying on your back, and even though Mila likes to eat chunks out of the corners of the yoga blocks (I’ve come to expect purple and blue detritus in her diapers on Saturdays) and tries to climb on me when I’m in downward dog, and even though after our end-of-class namaste we spend a few minutes picking crushed Goldfish crackers out of the carpet, I wish it was every day. It is awesome.

Plus I’m supporting my city’s parks & recreation department, and that makes me happy. (I like to pretend there’s a Leslie Knope or a Tom Haverford or a Ron Swanson involved in setting up classes like mine. Except probably not a Ron Swanson. Because April would make sure he didn’t have to.)

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I’m too tired to think of a witty title for this post. Just some stuffs so you know I’m still here Happy Valentine’s Day