Peeping mom

After several months of begging and pleading, we finally broke down and signed Olivia up for dance lessons.

I was kind of against starting my kids in activities so young, but guess what? This is HER doing, not mine. I know every mom thinks their kids is more advanced than any other kids their age. I'm not sure I think that, exactly. But I do know that Olivia has very defined likes and dislikes and dance is a definite like.

So last week we headed off to Target, got her a leotard, tights and ballet slippers, signed her up for 8 weeks of lessons at a local community arts center and then answered a weeks worth of the, "Do I get to go to ballet class today?" question.

We got to her 10:15 Saturday morning class about 20 minutes early partly because I didn't exactly know where I was going and didn't want to be late and partly because I was sick of saying, "NO! It's not time to leave yet." Steve had to do a football chapel so I had to take all 3 kids with me. A real barrel of monkeys, let me tell you.
We got there and it was a vision of pink. So cute. The class if for 3 and 4 year olds. And oh my, it really was sweet. When the instructor, Miss Nancy (who is hard core!) came out and read the names, Olivia marched in and grabbed a hold of that ballet bar like it was serious business.

Then, to my utter sadness, Miss Nancy dismissed all the parents to the hallway and announced that class would be over at 11:00 sharp and we could return to pick up our ballerinas.

Wait a minute. You mean I don't get to stand there and ooo and ahhhh over every brilliant thing she does? I'm paying $55 and don't even get to see what kind of return I'm getting on my investment? Fine, I'm sure that it IS for the best. That way O concentrates on Miss Nancy and not on me.

So, the door was shut and I had to figure out how to entertain 2 hellions in the hallway for the next 10 minutes until Steve came to take the boys home and I would wait for O to be done. He came, they left and then it was me left to my own devices.

The door did have a window, but it had strategically been covered with construction paper. Are you kidding me??? Who did she think we were? Fine. You can keep a mommy out but you can't keep her down. For the next 30 min. me and the other 7 moms waiting took turns bending and contorting, trying to get a glimpse of our girls (who were certainly outshining the other mediocre girls and really should be trying out some other hobby.)

Olivia was in heaven. She finished her class and before we were even in the car, she asked when we get to go back. Sorry, O, the class is only once a week. And so begins my life as chauffeur extraordinaire. Good bye Saturdays, hello, activities.