On Monday morning, as soon as the pale yellow sun chases away the silvery moon, I slip downstairs. It’s early, but I have been counting down the minutes ever since Saturday, when Momma agreed to take me to the gymnastics center. Today is sign-up day. I am so excited! Maybe I will see Abby there.

I decide to wake up Momma with breakfast in bed as a thank-you for letting me take lessons.

First, I get a pretty tray out of the cabinet. Then I rinse some fresh strawberries, put them in a little red bowl, and sprinkle some sugar on top. There are some leftover pancakes in the freezer, so I pull them out and pop them in the microwave. Then I place a pat of butter and some maple syrup on top. Last, I pour Momma’s favorite orange juice in the glass with red cherries painted on it. Ugly Brother comes in and sits by the stove.

“Are you here to help?” I ask.

He barks, “Ruff, ruff.”

He can’t help much, so I tell him to keep me company. When everything is ready, I put it on the tray with a pretty pink lace napkin and some silverware.

“I wish I could make Momma coffee, but I’m not old enough yet,” I say. “It’s okay, though. This breakfast sure looks tasty.”

Again he barks, “Ruff, ruff.”

“I’m taking this up to Momma,” I tell him. “You stay out of my way, okay?”

He sits down, and I head upstairs. Daddy has already gone to work. I set down the tray and tip-tap knock on the door.

“Come in,” Momma says sleepily from inside.

I open the door, pick up the tray, and carry it to the bed. When Momma sees it, her eyes light up like fireflies.

“For me?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am!” I reply.

“What a treat!” Momma exclaims. “This breakfast tray is pretty as a picture! And just what did I do to deserve being treated like a queen today?”

“I wanted to do something special for you, Momma,” I say. “Especially since you agreed to let me take gymnastics lessons.”

Momma smiles. “Well just remember that you also promised to do extra chores,” she says. “I also think some of the lesson fees should come from your piggy bank.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will help pay, Momma,” I say.

After breakfast, we get ready to go. I get dressed, brush my teeth, and head toward the door. As I step outside, Ugly Brother darts through the door and jumps into the van!

“Sorry, Ugly Brother,” I say, “but gymnastics isn’t for doggies!”

He makes the saddest little doggie face as I start leading him back into the house.

Momma crosses her arms. “Sorry, Ugly Brother,” she says. “NO dogs allowed today!”

As we drive, visions of gymnasts tumble in my head. “Please hurry, Momma!” I beg.

“Hold your horses, sugar!” Momma replies. “Little Creek Road is not too far. It’s just down Main Street and a few turns past the school.”

The sun is brighter now, glinting like a gold medal in the sky as we pull into the parking lot.

“I think the Olympics must be inspiring a lot of girls,” Momma says. “The parking lot is full!”

The building looks sort of like Pa’s big metal horse training barn, except it’s painted a really pretty sunflower gold color. Large windows run down one side, and there is a big gold star near the front door.

Inside, we see girls tumbling, swinging, and practicing with coaches. I see a tiny girl with red hair waving and smiling. It’s Abby Golden! She must be taking lessons today. I sign hello.

“Momma, that girl is my new friend from the park,” I explain.

Momma smiles and salutes hello, too.

We go to the welcome desk, and a nice lady gives us several forms to complete. We sit at a little table and fill out all of them.

After we’re finished, we get to take a tour of the facility. It has a big floor mat, uneven bars, a balance beam, and something called a horse, but it doesn’t actually look like a real horse. I can start classes with the beginner group tomorrow.

Momma and I go watch Abby. She dismounts from the bars with a twist. Then she waves at us again and smiles. As I’m waving back, I see Abby’s mom on the other side of the mat.

“Come on, Momma!” I say. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

I grab Momma’s hand and pull her in the direction of Abby’s mom. We walk over the squishy mats in our stocking feet until we are standing right in front of Mrs. Golden.

“This is Mrs. Golden, Abby’s mother,” I say in my politest voice. “Mrs. Golden, this is Mrs. Carter, my mother.”

“You can call me Tonya,” Mrs. Golden says, smiling widely.

“And you can call me Shelley,” says Momma.

The mommas chat while I watch Abby practice. When it’s time to go, I ask Mrs. Golden to tell Abby I will see her tomorrow. Mrs. Golden teaches us how to say good-bye to Abby ourselves. Guess what? We already knew it all along. You do, too — it’s just a wave!

Momma and I walk out to the van. “Now I really am on my way to being a gymnastics queen!” I squeal. “But first I have to learn enough to participate in the Gold Star Showcase event.”

“We’ll talk to your new coach tomorrow,” Momma tells me. “Then we’ll find out all about the showcase.”