Yoga Babies
My Tuesday noon class follows a morning of work for me, work which involves reasonably serious conversations with reasonably serious adults. Then I whip into my office at 11:30, change into my yoga duds, and drive over to the studio, arriving ridiculously early for my 12:15 class. In fact, when I arrive, they’re still sweeping up Cheerios from the floor. Moms carry babies on their hips, all of them completely relaxed after a moms-and-tots class. I love this. I put my mat down in the back corner, and dream about being a yoga baby. In this dream, my body has no resistance. I flop forward and sweep my hands across the floor. My head turns like an owl. I do somersaults for the fun of it. In this dream class, I laugh whenever I feel like it. I also sing: This Little Light of Mine, or Baby Beluga, or You Are My Sunshine.
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Yoga Babies
