Tiny goes to dancing on Saturdays. She started because, as lots of small girls do, she loved to dance and move.
Every Saturday for an hour of power, she dances with a group of 16 other little girls.
She's probably not the most enthusiastic dancer, and some weeks, she doesn't want to go. But when we go, she has a good time.
But not this week. This week we went. It was cold in the big church hall. We arrived early, found our seats, switched her shoes over to jazz shoes, and she clutched her "news" (this week - a piggy bank) and walked up to be first seated in the circle.
Once news was over, they started dancing. They have three dances for their end of year concert. If you've ever seen small girls dancing, it can be a good abdominal work out. Some weeks they have me in stitches. It's well choreographed chaos.
And after about 15 minutes of dancing, I could see Tiny was a little deflated. The teacher could see she was not happy, and called me up to see what was happening with sad little Tiny.
She crumbled as I reached the stage. And wouldn't tell me. After a while I cracked her, and she told me she didn't want to do dancing because she didn't want to be in the concert. She was sad. I felt sad for her. But what do I do?
I'm not someone to make my kids do something they don't want to do (unless it is having a bath, or tidying their room *snort* like that ever happens). But do we persevere with dancing and terrify poor Tiny? Or ditch it and up the fun stakes?
I am erring on the side of the fun stakes.
Thoughts dear reader? Ever been in the same boat?
image of Australia's very own Darcey Bussell as taken by Annie Leibovitz