I was so that parent.
And I so had that kid.
It was the trek to our first dance class (and yes, I feel it is our dance class because if I'm going to see this girl make The Nutcracker some day [which is the pinnacle of all things dance, right?] I'm going to have to go Bela Karolyi on her butt and do some home coaching).
I got out the video camera and Little Miss Twirly Pants showed her stuff for the camera. She had a case of the 'big head' and nothing could stop her.
Until we actually arrived at dance class. That is where I saw the panic begin to set in. I saw the snail slowly begin to inch her way back into her shell.
Now even though I wanted to be Miss Tough Mom and throw her into the wolves of strange dancers in a large mirror-filled room, I just couldn't do it.
I hung out non-chalantly and did the whole "They're going to teach you how to dance like a princess and a butterfly" to calm the nerves. My attempts were proving futile.
When the moms started exiting, I thought, "Oh boy. Here we go."
And that is where I became that parent with that kid.
The parent who refused to leave her sob-induced child.
So we sat on the bench.
And watched other little adorable girls dance like princesses and butterflies.
"Are you ready to join them?" I ask more than once.
"Next time, Mommy. Next time."
Well, next time came around about 78 times and Little Miss Twirly Pants sat getting splinters in her ballet-clad hiney.
So we will take a week to think about it. We will try again. I'm going to turn Miss Tough Mom and send her into the wolves. I just hope the wolves don't send her back out for howling too loud.