It was a Friday night 6 years ago when Amy first walked into the dojo. We were barely open, in fact I am pretty sure my husband was driving nails into drywall at the exact moment she entered. Still, there we were, post Friday night sparring class, hands wrapped, faces sweaty. At the time Amy lived above the dojo, and she was excited to finally see the old abandoned deli turn into something. She walked in, all smiles, eager to find out about us, and was met at the door with a handshake and a "Shhh, there's a baby sleeping in the corner." That baby, was my daughter, Maya, and she, like the Columbus Avenue dojo, was brand new. That Friday she dozed in her Pack & Play in the corner of the room, completely oblivious to the heated battles that were playing out on the floor nearby. It was not the first, nor would it be the last time she slept in the dojo. Our female students may remember tiptoeing around a small toddler on Saturday afternoons, napping on a mat on the fl