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Tiny Dancer

19 Feb

Look at this 4-year old sugar pie! Kyah’s class held a dance recital in December.  I couldn’t wait to see it and I wasn’t disappointed.  She was fantastic!  Her teacher is superb and so good at teaching skill and technique.  Unfortunately, we have moved farther south and added 30 minutes each way to the dance lesson commute.  It might sound silly (and it probably is in the grand scheme of life), but please pray that we can find a new dance class closer to our new home.  Since returning from the states Ky asks on a daily basis when dance class is and I haven’t had the heart to tell her she isn’t going back to that studio.  It would crush her.

A lot of parents sign their child up for dance class because it’s cute to watch them in their little leotard.  We have taken classes, in the states and Costa Rica, and watched  parents peel their child off and give them a love shove to go through the door.  Not the case with us. There is just no denying the joy of dancing in the life of my sweet girl. She dances wherever we are.  In a store, the airport, at school, in the park, or at home, it doesn’t make an ounce of difference.  While we’re waiting to pay at the grocery store she’ll hear a tune and can’t keep herself from jazzing up the place a bit.  I’m definitely not a “Dance Mom” (what the heck is wrong with those women?!), but I love to watch my girl dance.  She’s a natural.

Her teacher gave them all a certificate and flowers. She was stoked!

WWJD?

15 Nov

WWJD?  Probably not what I did.  I didn’t make an instant move, though.  I thought it through and the end result was what I hoped was right.  It’s all about these sandals.  They’re Kyah’s.  She took them off at Kidspoint a couple of weeks ago and we never saw them again.  Then, Cristel came to our house to play and I noticed them on her feet.  I asked where she got them and she just looked at me like a deer in the headlights of a 4×4.  Her sister spoke up and said they were a gift from her aunt, while at the same time, several other girls began to rat her out.  I was conflicted.  I felt that if I let her keep them, even though she knew that I knew they weren’t her shoes, I was reinforcing the negative behavior.  So, I grabbed her by the foot, yanked the shoes off, and she took off crying and running for home.  Not really.  Well, she did take off for home with big crocodile tears, but I politely asked her for them back because they weren’t her shoes.  I’m so mean.  Writing this makes me feel guilty.  I wish I had a pair of sandals that are actually her size to give her.  I just couldn’t gift her something that was stolen.  What would you have done?

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