When I was a little girl, my mother picked me up from my first gymnastics class. In the back seat of her yellow Cougar (yes, my mother drove a car called a Cougar), I broke into tears.
“What’s wrong, Mary? Didn’t you like gymnastics?” my mother asked.
“No, Mom, I loved gymnastics! It’s just that I’m really going to miss you and Dad when I have to go to the Olympics!” I tearfully replied.
Please keep in mind that it was my first class and I could barely do a cartwheel.