When you've lost your way, I'm not the person to ask for directions.
H is taking fencing lessons. Or "swordfighting" as he's been known to call it.
I'm not sure how thrilled I am with him picking up a weapon and waving it around while we shell out a small fortune (although thanks must go to the Grandparents Schoon for picking up the tab this time 'round).
But it's an Olympic sport, along with the other two activities he's involved in -- swimming and gymnastics. So it can't be all bad.