In my experience, there's "one" in every class. I shouldn't have to define "one," because there just is. And this morning in tumbling, I can confirm as I I already have formerly discovered, that "one" is always mine. It should comfort every other parent that my child has that title.
Yes, it's true. Because my "one," is the child going her own course while the instructor is showing the rest proper techniques. The "one" is the child who sarcastically pretends she has no idea what the directions are and even after the teacher reminds her, ignores them anyway. The "one" makes sure that as smoothly as class is running, it doesn't stay that way altogether.
And in the world of parenting, it's truly best to be oblivious to your child's status of being the "one." And you certainly don't ever want to witness it with your very own eyes. It's not good for the blood pressure, or your relationship with your child. No, sometimes it really is best to be blind. Especially for the child, because that way, when the teacher's aides are passing out lollipops at the end of the class, the "one" might actually get that unnecessary piece of toxic sugar from the teacher out of pity or just retribution to the parent. Since the "one" is indeed the "one," the fight is rough over the lost confection, and loud as it echoes down the over-hundred-years-old building's hallways and stairways.
The "one" is told she now has a goal for the next week's class. But we'll see if she lives to see that day, let alone eat that lollipop.
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