I'm so proud of my Pete. She's a lot like me, but also she's her own person.
Last night, she started a parks and rec hip hop dance class. Since it was the first class, I got to stay and watch, and... I'm not sure how to say this... Um... Oh! I know! At one point I was mentally rehearsing my answer for when Pete finished last night's class and wanted to quit. I wasn't completely opposed to the idea. That sounds bad, I know, but she has my coordination and Husbandguy's mom's grace. She was the kid on the wrong foot going the wrong way most of the time. I didn't cringe, much, but I also didn't find myself glowing with pride like I usually do. But then, about 2/3 of the way through the class, something happened. It wasn't a miracle or anything. She wasn't suddenly music-video-ready, but as she got comfortable with the routine, she did better (duh, MN! of course she did!). Her feet still pointed the wrong way and she was still one of the most rhythmically challenged in the group, but she clearly felt like she was doing better and relaxed and wasn't terrible.
If I was 7 (or 35) and took this class, I would have wanted to quit after the first time. I would have complained that it was hard and I didn't know anyone and I felt stupid and I didn't want to do it anymore. And if I was my mom and watched the class and heard that, I would have said that I needed to take one more class before I decided whether to quit or not. And then I would have taken one more class and quit.
But not Pete. She wasn't glowing with pride afterward either, and she said it was hard to remember everything, but she said she likes it and wants to keep doing it. She's not a quitter. She's not a dancer, but more importantly, she's not a quitter. You know what she said? She said that she needs to practice.
Huh. Practice. Huh. Again I am struck by how different we really are. Practice? Not quit? Huh.
Thank goodness for free will!