Dear Alexis,
Can you go to dance class now? How about now? Now? Is it time for dance class now? How about now? WHEN IS DANCE CLASS? CAN YOU GO TO DANCE CLASS NOW? NOW? NOW? HOW ABOUT NOW?
Huh. I thought that would be more enjoyable. I mean, you have repeated that loop so many times over the summer, I kinda assumed it must be the magical phrase of happiness and joy. I guess it only works if you're a kid.
Anyway, after much brow-beating, a million reminders, and non-stop chatter about the subject, the time finally came for you to return to dance class this past week. It was a reset of sorts as we had decided to leave behind the place you had known for two years (How crazy is that? You're FOUR and have already been doing gymnastics and dance for two years.). After taking the summer off, I wasn't sure how you would respond. In fact, I was scared for you.
In the past, each week has had the potential for disaster. As much as you DEFINITELY wanted to be in that class, you were entirely too interested in finding out what was going on outside of that room. Some weeks you went into class without a peep. Other weeks, you acted like your tiny feet were allergic to wood flooring and OMG! OMG! Please don't make you go into that room all by yourself! You wanted to dance SO BAD, but sometimes you mostly wanted to dance while safely seated in my lap. It was a crapshoot of sorts. Frankly, it made me absolutely loony tunes.
There were a lot of factors that went into your leeriness about dance class in the past. The teacher who didn't like you . . . your crazy shy streak . . . your insecurities . . . it all played a part. So what would happen in a new building? With all new teachers? All new kids? And all new curriculum?
Just between you and me, I was *positive* you would freak out. I figured you would be faced with a moment of having to decide whether to go into the dance room on your own free will or run for the hills. And I just knew you would run for the hills. I KNEW IT.
You like proving me wrong, don't you, Alexis? You're very good at it. Not only did you march right on into that room, you never once so much as glanced out that window to see if I was there. You danced and danced and tumbled and danced, with complete confidence radiating from your pores and a huge grin across your face.
Nicely played, kid. Feel free to do that every week from here on out, mmkay?
Love,
The Momma Who Thinks Confidence Looks Damn Good On You
