The other day, a friend of mine told us about an inexpensive dance class for little girls that sounded like a neat setup. I’ve been wanting to enroll Emily in dance since she was two, but never actually did anything about it. This program sounded like something I could fit into our schedule, so I am going this week to sign her up.
Emily is always dancing around and dressing up in ballerina dresses. I figured she’d be thrilled at the thought of hopping and twirling around with other little girls and actually learning how to dance without a pole and save her daddy from having a heart attack.
I expected her to shriek with delight and I had prepared myself already for her asking me everyday if it was time to go to dance class. Did this happen? Nope. When she heard the news, she instantly grabbed her jaw and fell to the ground as if she had just been told that they would no longer be showing Little Mermaid on the Disney Channel. “What’s wrong?” I innocently ask. She covered her eyes and moaned, “I don’t want to go to dance class!” I quickly explained to her that it would be fun and you love to dance, remember?
She sat up and protested, “But, they will give me a shot and hurt me!” That is when I discovered that apparently, ever since we took her dentist to get her teeth worked on, she was now not going to trust us to take her anywhere that she had not been to before. Surely, this person would hold her down and stick loud machinery into her mouth or torture her with a feather for hours.
I was all like, Honey, I know I told you it would not be that bad to go to the dentist and then you would not talk to me for a week afterwards, but you need to believe me and know that this WILL be fun.
For the next half hour, I explained to her that she gets to wear Tinkerbell outfits and loud shoes and I won’t even yell at her not to wear those loud shoes. I told her that she would make new friends and maybe they could come to her birthday party in a couple of months. I continued with how she could even wear makeup to class-Mommy’s makeup if she wanted. She finally let go of her jaw and I could just hear the wheels turning in her head as she quickly smiled. “Do we get to go to the store to buy my Tinkerbell outfit?” I rolled my eyes and stated, “Yes Honey, we get to go to the store.” She then jumped up and yelled, “Yeah! I like dance class!”
Apparently, now I will have to use her materialistic tendencies to get her to go places and deal with the shopaholic anonymous meetings later.