Growing Pains

While we try to teach our children all about life,

Our children teach us what life is all about.

~Angela Schwindt

    We anxiously awaited the Big Day for weeks. The excitement increased with our conversations and with the purchase of a small pair of black leather dance shoes. A stop at the McGinley School of Irish Dance will now be a permanent fixture in our weekly routine. Monday, Evelynn began her dance education, and I found myself unexpectedly caught up in my own life lesson. In the first moments of our arrival at the dance studio, I witnessed my carefree daughter become a studious, serious four year old. She did not ask for my help and was slightly offended that I had offered. She walked in with her dance bag on her arm and cooly sat down on a chair. She put her socks on and dance shoes on (although, she needed some help with the shoes, she never asked). After placing her other shoes in her bag, she walked right into the studio and sat down on a little chair with all the other beginners, smoothly taking all the activity in. I was, well, impressed. The little girl sitting out there didn't seem to be mine. Her mannerisms were so grown up.
    I stayed by the door for a few minutes, trying to catch her eye. She didn't even say 'bye' to me. She finally looked at me and I told her I was leaving. The look on her face was one of "Yes, I know. Go ahead." She smiled a little but then looked away. Oh, how I did not want to leave! Despite her excitement and calm demeanor, I really wanted her to have some kind of emotion that involved some kind of dismay. I was leaving her with strangers. She had only met her teacher once, but never the other students. I wanted her seriousness to just be uncertainty, but she never looked my way again. I walked back to the car, resisting the urge to go back in and make sure she was still okay. All was in order. This was the way it should be. She would be fine. I slowly got in my car and wiped the tears from my eyes. This is good.