I Love You, but…

You drive me crazy.

I brought you to this class thinking it would be a fun activity to break up our week.  I’ve always wondered if you would like dancing, the way your cousin does.  I’ve always been curious to see if music would grab your attention or if the lady in the leotard with her hands poised in the air would inspire you to mimic and do the same.

I wondered in futility.

You stood on your yellow dot for 2.5 seconds before you decided it would be more fun to throw it high into the air.

You jerked your arm away and glared at me when I tried to return you to your spot.

You writhed uncomfortably when I whispered in your ear that it was time to listen to the teacher.  That you were a big girl.  That you needed to follow directions.

You made me SO angry the way you ignored everything we said.  It was rude.  It was embarrassing.  It was uncomfortable.

I took you to the bathroom and we talked about being respectful and listening and following directions.

But when we walked back out you ran in a big circle, smiling at yourself in the mirror the whole time.

I wanted to scream.

You, on the other hand?  You did scream.

You screamed when it was time to put your shoes on because you wanted to go hang on the barre.

You screamed when I made you put the drumsticks down.

You screamed when we were the last ones there- the director and the teacher and the lady at the front desk looking down their noses at us praying we wouldn’t sign you up.

You screamed when I had to carry you out to the car and buckle you in- hissing in your face the consequences of your actions that morning.

You drive me flippin’ crazy.

But can I tell you a little secret?

Despite my fury.  Despite my red-faced embarrassment and my unheeded discipline, deep deep down in my heart… I love everything about you.

I love your independence.

I love your creativity.

I love your unbound energy.

I love the way you don’t follow the crowd (or the teacher), and the way every experience is an adventure.

I love that you spot the most interesting thing in the room and want to climb it or hang on it or jump from it.

I love your free spirit.  Your wide-running circles.  Your balance.  Your strength.  Your passion.

You threw that circle as high as you could.  You managed to get your feet all the way up touching the barre before I pryed you away.  You would have flipped that big foam thing over and been on top of it in a heartbeat if I hadn’t have stopped you.

And music?

Well… your whole life is a dance to the beat of a different drum.

And while I want to rip my hair out when you don’t sit still and listen when you’re supposed to, I can’t hide my excitement about what you will fall in love with someday.  At what will suck you in and steal your attention in all the right ways.

No.  You’re not a dancer.  (And that is fine with me)  And maybe you’re not the most attentive student.  And maybe we need to work on your listening and obeying skills just a bit more (every second for the next ten years).

But let me tell you this.

Even if Mommy is not crazy about your behavior, I am completely in love…

with who you are.