Drama at Buh-Lay Class

A had her weekly tap and ballet class last night. Every week is sort of like that movie "Groundhog Day." Before class, I remind her that's it very important that she make some kind of attempt to listen to the instructor. And every week, I watch through the window as the same scene repeats itself over and over. I watch the instructor carry out a dance step of some sort. Then I look at A. And what she is doing never matches what the instructor just did. Often I'll notice her running around the room, skidding in her tap shoes, while the instructor stands there with her hand on her hip. There are only two little girls in the class and, as far as I can tell, the other little girl does whatever my kid tells her to do. The other thing that happens every week is that A claims she has to use the potty. She ends up missing a good 5 minutes of a 30 minute class.

So last night, I tried to break the cycle. I made sure she emptied her wee little bladder right before we left the house. I lectured her all the way to the Y about how she should listen to Miss Alyssa. She nodded solemnly and said that yes, she would indeed listen.

But alas . . . I watched through the window as Miss Alyssa tapped the toe of her left shoe against the floor. A flipped onto her back and jabbed both feet into the air. Halfway through the class she insisted she had to go potty. "There's no way!" I told her. "You just went!" But I hauled her off to the bathroom anyway and guess what? She pinched a loaf right there at the Y. She was determined to produce SOMEthing, and she surely did.

Then came the drama. At the end of class, the instructor gave the other girl a sticker for being a good listener (or at least making some sort of attempt at it). A lined up for her sticker and was . . . DE-NIED. I had to hand it to the teacher, who is pretty young herself, for dishing out a consequence like that. A wailed all the way home and could not wait to tell her father how she had been wronged.

Next week is the last class. Apparently there will be some sort of "parent observation." I'm sure there will be an elaborate recital where A can show off the zero steps she learned over the course of seven weeks.

I will probably wait until the Fall before trying again. In the summertime the kid and I like to spend Wednesday evenings at the farmers' market, where we can eat kettle corn and listen to live music. And we don't need special shoes for that.

In other news, here was our dinner conversation the other night:

Me, attempting to talk with my husband: Kevin was at work today (Kevin’s wife is pregnant and is overdue, which is why his attendance at work was noteworthy).

P: So they didn’t have the baby yet, huh?

Me: No.

A (loudly, with a scowl on her face): Mama, why did you say no to Father! You can’t say no to Father! (Yes, she is still in this phase where she calls him "Father")

P: Mama says no to Father all the time.

A: You can’t say no to Father.

Me: Be quiet and eat your dinner.

P: How was your dental appointment? (I’m having trouble with a crown, so I reluctantly made an appointment.)

Me: Well, the gums dropped on that side and apparently there’s nothing to be done about it.

A: Gum drop?! Gum drop?!

Me: No, not that kind of gum drop. What did you do at Jessica’s today?

A: I wore the Sleeping Beauty dress.

I'm surprised she didn't try to work the words "Chuck E Cheese" into this conversation like she normally does, even though it never has anything to do with anything.