Sooooo – we had our last ballet class last night, and by last ballet class I might really mean our LAST. BALLET. CLASS.
It all started off well – but not really, because I decided to walk there so we could have a picnic afterwards (The hubs is traveling. A picnic in the park after a long day alone with no other grown ups is actually a picnic in the park. PB&Js, no clean-up, wear them out. Done.). I was convinced we would be late so I basically ran, and entered the building sweaty and 5 minutes early. Which, coincidentally, is earlier than I’ve EVER been driving.
We walk in and immediately Paige is off and running. Literally. She and and her buddy, Audrey, get their ballet slippers on and are running around like maniacs waiting for class to start.
Since it’s the last class of the session we all get to sit inside the “studio” and watch. As far as “Feldmann Girl” behavior goes, today is pretty tame. Both girls have napped. Paige is wiggly and not listening and Blair is screaming every now and then … but dude, that’s called a relaxing afternoon for us. I mean, I only had to leave the room ONCE for Blair to scream it out, people! (I probably should have left many more times, but seriously.
The other moms and I had things to talk about I needed to watch Paige dance.)
Afterwards, Miss Johanna came up and told all the other moms how excited she was to have their daughters in class again. She says things like “Aw-der-ee is a PLEASURE to have in class. I would be thrilled to have her again.” And, “Miss Lilly has been delightful! I look forward to her next class!”
Then she turns to me. Based on our last experience, I’m not anticipating much positive feedback. Miss Johanna looks at me, and says “Thank you for bringing Miss Paige.”
What the F@^K?!?!? What am I? Yellow Taxi??? Thanks for bringing Paige?????
Wow. So, as we’re walking out, Miss Johanna is standing by the door and giving everyone a little pat as we leave. She says, as she lightly taps Paige’s head, “Goodbye, Miss Paige.”
Paige turns around and sticks out her tongue. Yes, I bopped her on the mouth, but really only because all the other moms and attendees, and Miss Johanna, looked so shocked at her sassy-ness. (And, it was actually barely a tap, and just surprised her more than anything.)
In my heart? I felt horrible for doing it, because what I was thinking was a lot worse. It was a phrase that started with a word that may have rhymed with Chuck and ended with you. Sticking out one’s tongue seems like a pretty decent compromise for mixed company.
I may or may not have given Paige a huge hug at the park and told her I was sorry for bopping her, especially after she told me that she didn’t like ballet or Miss Johanna.
I may or may not feel super-proud of her for what I hope was “expressing her feelings” towards someone she could tell wasn’t a huge fan of her’s (and, yes, I realize this is terrible parenting. And, YES, I realize she was probably just being a brat. But the Mama Bear was out!).
Oh, also? Miss Johanna? We’re switching to Gymnastics.