The Dance

Last night as I sat in the dance studio watching my son dance, the mother next to me began chatting with me. Her daughter was performing too; however, she was cringing at her half-hearted attempts to complete the sequence of steps during warm ups.

"She is so done. She wants to do karate. Fine with me."

This mother is a dancer herself who dances a couple times a week. I liked her attitude and realization that her daughter's interests were shifting. Been there done that.

A few minutes later, she shared again, "Luckily my daughter has a huge crush on your son. It has gotten us through the last six weeks of ballet!"

I am sure the utter surprise showed all over my face.

She continued, "I am so sorry, but just look at the way she gazes so longingly at him."

Wow. Too much information for mommy. Though I follow her gaze. I do see her daughter intently looking at my son, but I do not know her well, so it is not so obvious to me, or perhaps I just do not want to see it.

Again, "At the end of the dance when Emma leans into his right arm, she doesn't want a boy touching her, but my daughter has pleaded for that opportunity! She dreams of taking her place."

I smile.

"Oooohhh, there is her gaze of longing at your poor son...again."

The dance of young love continues. One oblivious. One smitten.