The Movement Diaries
Our Little Caterpillar
Before
When he first visited us, our Little Caterpillar didn’t want anything to do with his instructor.
He ran into the room to explore, made no eye contact, and avoided interaction entirely. He
wasn’t defiant—just deeply uninterested in connecting. And that was okay. We knew the
goal wasn’t instant engagement—it was simply to create a space worth returning to.
During
At first, he resisted lying down in the hammock. He seemed especially uncomfortable with
his head enclosed, so we followed his cue and let him sit upright instead. But later, while
spinning, he surprised us—he curled onto his side inside the hammock and started wiggling
joyfully, like a little worm. “Are you a wiggly caterpillar?” we asked. He kept wiggling. He
reached out for our hand. Again and again. We checked in: “Do you want more?” And he
signed more.
The Win
At the end of class, without a prompt or cue, he waved goodbye. His mom looked
stunned. “Oh my gosh,” she mouthed. Later, she shared that his teacher and aide had been
working on that simple wave for much of the school year. Our Little Caterpillar felt safe and
comfortable enough to engage, enjoying the space and communicating through signs and
gestures.
That’s why we follow their lead. That’s why we spin, cocoon, pause, and play. Sometimes,
the biggest flight starts with the smallest wiggle.
Our Fearless Ninja
Before
We first met Our Fearless Ninja during an open gym session. She was all smiles and full of
excitement—eager to try everything. What started as a casual introduction turned into an
impromptu adventure.
During
We showed her how to wear the hammock like a backpack, planning to gently introduce a
spin with her feet on the ground. Maybe—maybe—we’d try lifting off later. But she had
other plans. Before we could suggest anything, she ran full speed, swinging forward and
catching herself on the return with natural ease. Then she backed up and did it again. And
again. We found ourselves sprinting behind her as spotters, unsure of what she’d do
next—but she held strong and kept beautiful form the entire time.
So we adapted. We stood up a foam pad and gave her a target to knock down with her
fearless “ninja kicks.” She soared with joy, testing her body and balance with laughter in her
lungs and absolutely no hesitation.
The Win
By the time her first official session arrived, she was ready to level up. Our Fearless Ninja
moved from backpack sprints and kicks to full-blown rope swinging—gripping and gliding
with the same mix of bravery and instinct. Her confidence was contagious. What we planned
as “step-by-step progress” became something even better: a masterclass in fearless play.
At Kindred Flight, we don’t teach kids to be brave. We just give them the space to remember
they already are.