Bug goes to work with me.

We attachment parent, which means she is pretty dang, well, attached to us.

Once a week, she visits her grandparents for a few hours so her moms can go out sans children. The first few times we left her, there were tears all around. Bug was hysterical, my wife cried and it was hellish.

Slowly, over the past few months, things have completely morphed. When we left her last week, she didn’t cry a. single. tear.

This was an indescribable YAY moment!

Three weeks ago, we signed Bug up for a six week toddler dance class. They do ballet, tap and jazz.

The first week, my wife and I both sat in the studio with her. She danced, she had fun and it was beyond adorable.

The second week sucked. The parents weren’t allowed in the room, so I sat in the crack of the open door and encouraged her to go dance.

She refused.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

I was ready to scoop her up, sail her home and try again when she was older…except for one thing. When she wasn’t crying or trying to pull me into the studio, she would stand in the doorway and mimic every. single. step.

She wanted to dance. She just wanted me to dance with her.

I talked to the instructor after class. I said I felt Bug may not be ready. “I disagree.” she said. “She wants to do it, she just has to realize you are right outside. Try it for a few more weeks. We will see how she does.”

So, I brought her back the next week.

The third week began like the previous one. She was crying, stressed out and miserable. There was one instructor, one helper and three kids in the room.

I have no idea what overcame me, but I put my child in the studio, shut the door and walked around the corner to the one-way window/mirror.

And my daughter ran to the door and opened it. (Damn handicapable doorknobs!) The helper stopped her.

She cried.

And she cried.

And she screamed.

She pressed her face up to the one-way window and she looked too pathetic for words.

My mommy-heart broke and we were about to call game-over.

And then it happened.

She joined the class.

She tapped her toes, she dug her heels and she danced, people!

She spun!

She smiled!

She was okay.

When class was over, she thanked her teacher and we left.

Tonight is her fourth class. She was excited when I put her dance clothes and shoes in her bag.

“Dance? Dance?! Me dance?”

Yes, baby girl, you will dance…or so we are hoping. Wish us luck!