Sometimes, you just need that extra security...

The parents all file into the breezeway, one at a time, saying goodbye to their children before they fully walk through the door. My daughter hesitantly stands next to me, hanging back until the crowd clears. It seems theater practice makes her more nervous than dance ever does... My thought is, because theater is all new to her -And inconsistency has never been her strong suit... So, I kneel down to her level and reach out my hand to her, I compliment her bravery and reassure her that no matter what, I'll be in my chair that is positioned on the other side of the wall from her - the same chair that claims my spot 3-4 times a week for dance and theater.

The parents all leave, and the once chaotic room is now quiet...

And, I'm left alone in the waiting room with my son playing in the germ-filled box of toys and my head cocked upwards towards the flat screen TV to watch my daughter. 

Every once in a while, I'll catch her look up and smile at the camera. And even though she can't see me, she knows I'm smiling back at her.

Sometimes, she just needs that extra love. 
That extra hug. 
That extra security...

And I'm willing to give her all those, anytime she needs. Because very soon in our future, it'll be like a light switch... And one second later, she'll be swooshing me out of the way, as she walks past me into her future.

So if sitting in a chair for 2-3 hours, 3 times a week, is all she needs from me to be able to do what she loves, then I'll pull out my notebook and do some blogging. I'll do some social media surfing and get into heated debates about how children should have rights and be shown respect -a concept that sadly, people still debate. Or, I'll even sit on the uncarpeted floor and build magnet cars and play a competitive card game of WAR with my son -because my son enjoys the one-on-one time with me too and he doesn't care where it's at.

There really isn't anything I wouldn't do to meet the needs for my children...

Because the cliche is true -- They're only this little for a short time... And then one day you wake up, and you're no longer the center of their universe. 

Inconsistency will no longer be frightening, but instead, exciting. My daughter and I's secret handshake will eventually be an embarrassing thing, instead of the staple for leaving my side. And, eventually, she'll expect me to drop her off at the studio and pick her back up, 3 hours later...

And those days will break my heart. 
And those days, will be way more inconveniencing to me, than these days ever will.