Maddy had her first dance class this morning and I stood outside watching her dance through little holes cut out of the colored butcher paper covering the window into the classroom I realized that I have officially reached the point that all my parenting daydreams centered on.
I loved having a baby. I loved having a toddler. But I have always envisioned myself as the mom of a preschooler.
My daydreams centered around taking my little girl all dressed in leotard and tights to dance classes, or all laced up in her cleats to her first soccer practices. I pictured riding tricycles and gymnastics classes. Crafts and singing songs.
We have reached our sweet spot.
I watch her learn from and interact with her surroundings. She’s bold and happily introduces herself to the other kids at the play ground. She easily makes friends and is old enough to understand their value. She knows manners and knows to carry her plate into the kitchen after meals. She is her own person. She still needs me and I know she always will in the way that all girls always need their mommy and daddy but she is an individual, separate from her mom in a way that only a little girl, not a baby, can be.
I watched her dancing while also watching the other mommies hovering over the holes in the butcher paper. The other mom’s were worried about leaving their little girls and the possible anxiety their daughters night feel. On the other hand I knew that while Maddy would be happy to see me and tell me all about the class when it was done she was fine in that little room being independent and separate from me.
Next week I think I’ll take those 45 minutes to go get a coffee and let her have her time to explore and learn and then come rushing out the door when it’s done gushing about the friends she is making and the fun she is having all on her own.