You wouldn't even know she's the same kid. A simple little thing like changing teachers was enough to fix that which was broken when it came to Alexis and dance class. She is now a happy little participant who eagerly looks forward to her time in both the dance room and the gymnastics room.

But.

(Of course there is a "but.")

I'm not so sure about this different group of parents.

They're . . . different.

We're talking about drastically different parenting styles. DRASTICALLY. To be honest, I don't much care how people go about bringing up their kids. Do what you want, just so long as it doesn't negatively impact me or someone I care about. It's all good, and I truly believe there are a million and one "right" ways to do just about anything.

But.

There is this little group of moms, three of them, who clearly have a WHOLE other view of the world. Mostly, I get it. They are stay-at-home-moms who take their kids to dance class so that they can get an hour of kid-free chatting. They sit in a corner and talk, never once glancing up at their dancing daughter or son.

I TOTALLY respect that. It's weird (because hello! super cute dance and gymnastics action!), but I understand the need to escape.

But, uh, none of the three of them is a singleton parent. Their other eight kids (combined) run around like maniacs all over the dance building.

Whatever. Doesn't impact me. I'm usually glued to my chair, face practically touching the glass as I watch Alexis learn all about doing curtsies and leaping through the air. I can very easily block out the running and screaming and whatever.

What I can't ignore is the fact that the kids are frequently in a position to hurt themselves.

Yesterday the three-year old little boy (who last week broke his big brother's arm by slamming a car door on him--makes me glad to have a girl) was standing on top of a chair, one foot on the seat, the other foot propped up on the chair back. Rocking. Back and forth. I was sitting about three feet away, so I couldn't help but notice that he was trying to use the chair as a surf board, and that he was REALLY close to falling over and smashing his head on the concrete floor.

His mom never even glanced his way.

Back and forth. Back and forth. He rocked and rocked, very nearly killing himself. Fortunately, he got distracted by something shiny and ran to another part of the room to wreak havoc.

But, what do you do? How do you deal with other people's kids when you know you can't "fix" what is really going on? Do you say something to the kid? To the parent? Or just walk away?

The whole thing makes me miss the good ol' days when I was certain to get my butt kicked by any parent in the neighborhood if I did something stupid.

But then again, nobody ever said to me, "Hey, let's go splash in some puddles."