Another Wednesday, another dance class. This week's class was much like the past few--Alexis happily stood on her little circle mat, focused intently on trying to copy the instructor's every step as they tap danced to Supercalafrajilisticexpealadocious. Her face comically alternated from a happy grin to her determined tongue-hanging-out face, back to a grin, back her tongue hanging out, lather, rinse, and repeat. When they finally finished working through the routine as a group, the kids all ran to stand next to the wall so that they could take turns doing a step or two of solo dancing.

As each kid took a turn at making up a dance step, I sat glued to the glass watching her. The Cool Moms (including me) had managed to secure the best spot for kid-watching, so we intently watched our daughters get their groove on, quietly chuckling each time one of them did something a little bit funny or cute.

In Alexis' case, pretty much EVERYTHING she does is either a little bit funny or cute. She's the smallest in the class, and the only kid still sporting a fair amount of baby fat. Frankly, it's nothing short of the cutest thing on Earth to watch her do steps that seem more geared towards kids much older. She does really well, but her still-almost-a-baby body sometimes betrays her in ways that just doesn't happen to the 5 and 6-year olds.

As she stepped up to do her solo, all eyes turned towards Alexis. She busted out a smashing little sequence of tap moves that were certainly advanced for her age. And OMG, SO CUTE! All the adults chuckled as she rushed back to her spot, and several moms commented to me that she was (OBVIOUSLY!) the cutest. thing. ever.

I don't know exactly what happened next, but suddenly Alexis wasn't standing on her circle. Instead, she stood inches from my face on the other side of the glass, tears in her eyes as she stared directly at me. Her eyes told a story of pure pain, so I rushed over to the door to find out what had happened.

Alexis was sobbing. She was sobbing so hard she couldn't string together the words to tell me what was wrong, so I scooped her up and walked out to the hall to try talking to her. Minutes later she finally choked out the words that broke my heart. "Someone laughed at me," she whispered.

We talked for several minutes about how it was OK for people to laugh with us and that whoever had laughed certainly meant no harm. We discussed how she sometimes laughs when I poke myself in the eye with my sunglasses, when Meg falls off the couch, and when Daddy falls on the stairs. On and on it went, until finally I was able to coax her back into the dance room. Within minutes she was falling over in a fit of giggles, but the pain in her eyes and the pain in her words still hang with me.

Alexis is a tender-hearted little thing. Sometimes it's a good thing because she will guilt herself into good behavior. Sometimes it's a bad thing when she lets embarrassment keep her from having fun. I mostly worry that if she doesn't grow some thicker skin soon, she's in for a bumpy ride.

The teen years are going to SUCK.