It seems like a good idea to let your kids do the things they love, but sometimes that lands you at a dance competition for six hours.
Six hours can pass in a blink, but it can also feel like eternity when you're surrounded by people you don't understand. That is to say, Alexis loves dance. A lot. But if even a tiny little crack were to show in that love, I'd shove a doorstop in that gap and then plow through that gap faster than you can say "SEE YA, SUCKERS!" Thus, I do not understand the parents who are all in on the dance craziness.
Six hours is a long time to spend hanging around. You end up overhearing things like a six or seven-year old girl sobbing. One thing leads to another, and suddenly you find yourself paying attention to a train wreck. "But I just want to eat!" Briella whined. I know her name was "Briella" because her mom's sparkly shirt said so. "Briella's Mom" was spelled out in rhinestones across the back.
"You have seven more dances to do," Briella's mom replied. "You better pull it together right now," she continued sternly. That conversation escalated to a full-on screaming match.
I mean, if Alexis were to say she just wanted to eat instead of dance, I'd buy her a Whole Foods and and a McDonald's of her very own. It would be cheaper than paying for dance. Which, the entry fee for the dance competition was $45/dance, so "seven more dances?" HOLY COW.
I don't understand.
I also don't understand girls half Alexis' age standing on a stage in their underwear and a bra while twerking as if their lives depend on it. See also: I AM OLD. Give me a nice classical ballet, please. And fully clothed kindergarteners.
Alexis successfully navigated yet another dance competition, and she did it with a smile on her face the whole time.
I may not be all in on the dance thing, but I'm all in on the kid doing what she loves thing.