One Time, I Made My Daughter Cry...
By the time I got to the lunch room, she was already at her table. She saw me, camera in one hand, the email in the other, the bag over my shoulders held flowers and the rest of the info. She was confused, maybe even a little worried.
I knelt on the floor next to her, "Hey. I have something I think you should read," and I gave her the email.
She saw the words Nutcracker Casting, put her hand over her mouth, kicked her feet and gasped, "Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh," and she promptly started to cry.
"I got it?" she whimpered. "You better read the whole email, baby girl. See for yourself."
"I'm an angel, mom! I told you!"
"You called it sweetie," I said through a haze of tears. I expected excitement. The tears were an added bonus. I felt like a fairy godmother.
It. was. awesome.
I have no words for how excited and proud I am, but the best part in all of this? It's hers. She wanted to do ballet. She wanted to audition. She's happy to give up chunks of her weekends for the next two months to do this. It's hers. Her dad and I? We're just along for the ride, marveling at her excitement, reveling in her joy.
This is the fabulous part of the parenting gig. The little slivers of awesome that are so tremendous they make the tantrums, messes, and attitude worth it. I can't believe I got to make her cry happy tears and I'm so thrilled that I get to watch her do what she loves. Good stuff, guys. Good, happy stuff.