No One Likes A Bragger

GUESS who I chatted with last night? Wait, I'll give you a hint.

Yep. Little Miss Jane Fonda.

Thankfully, she was dressed normally. She did not stretch or bounce or flail around like a crazy person. She just perched her miniature little person on the vacant chair across from me. I didn't protest, mostly because I didn't notice her right away. I was too busy trying to locate Third Grader. I noticed her when she spoke to me, and the conversation was thus:

JF: Are you looking for your daughter?
Me: Oh...uh huh. I just saw her...
JF: She's probably in the bathroom getting dressed - these girls out here are just levels 5 and 6 now.
Me: Uh, yeah, she's practicing with them.
JF: Oh? Is she a level 5 or 6? I don't think I've met you before.
Me: ...No, she's a 4, but she's asked to stay for the extra half hours at the end. She wants to move up. (Please stop talking to me. Where is Third Grader? Ah - there she is.)
JF: Oh, isn't that cute. So-and-so is my third competitive gymnast, so I know all about how they can push themselves.
Me: (Of course she is.) Huh.
JF: We used to go to a private gym, but I really wanted this daughter to just have fun, you know? Take some of the pressure off. They're all so competitive with one another.
Me: Uh...yeah.

Then there was a lot of blathering on about how amazing and marvelous her two older daughters were, how much they won, how they eventually burned out and became raging drug fiends...just kidding about the drug fiend stuff. Meanwhile, the group of "level 5s and 6s plus my daughter" were working on back handsprings on the low beam. I can't imagine a scarier thing to put your body through, and these girls all looked mighty scared, even with a spotter.

JF: My goodness, that's a level seven skill, you know! How wonderful that they're working on it already! And look at that little tiny blonde girl, my goodness! She's almost got it already! Whose daughter is that?

Me: ...well, that's my daughter.

That shut her up.