Jonah began taking karate classes a few months ago. So far he has learned a front ball kick, a side kick, a hammer punch, a thrust punch, defensive maneuver #6, and stepping out on guard. He tests for his yellow belt this Saturday.
Jonah was encouraged in this endeavor by Rebecca, who actually took photos of Jonah as an infant at an anti-war rally so that she could create a a photo album to document his lifelong pacifism so that he could avoid being drafted into the army as an adult. Apparently if Jonah were to show this album to his drill sergeant at boot camp he would be excused from service, with apologies. This is the kind of crazy thing you read on the internet and think is a good, solid idea.
Anyway, the studio where Jonah takes karate lessons is running a promotion that allows mothers to take classes for free for the entire month of May. The promotion is purportedly in honor of Mothers Day, but is obviously the brainchild of one of the hot, young-buck instructors who see slightly-toned, been around the block a few times women parading their kids in and out of the studio every day. I will eat my hat if this studio runs a similar promotion in June for Father's Day.
Rebecca, always in search of a good deal, is of course taking advantage of this offer. It is just coincidence, I'm told, that Rebecca and all her friends, who debate endlessly about whether to allow their sons to play with pretend guns, have taken a sudden, keen interest in "learning" the deadly art of karate. Rebecca even got Jonah's teacher, Sensei (one of the aforementioned hot, young-bucks) to extend her free lessons into June.
All along Sensei has been telling Rebecca that he has never taught a more athletic or coordinated 4-year old than Jonah. Originally, we thought this was just to keep our checkbook open. However, I now think it is Sensei's master plan to woo Rebecca into his Dojo permanently, so that he can have unfettered 24-7 access to Jonah, in order to mold the boy into the next Bruce Lee/Chuck Norris/Jackie Chan, and bonk the bird to boot. Not a bad little scheme for a guy who, as far as I can tell, never wears shoes and only owns one belt.
Actually if this plays out the way I've imagined it, it would have a bright side. I mean, it's true I want my kids to have things better than I had; and the best Jonah can hope for from me is to learn how to read a box score.
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