My 8 year old takes school very seriously. Like in a strangely dangerous way.

She looks for ways to go above and beyond when it comes to projects, homework and studying.

Her report card is a reflection of that hard work and dedication and not meant to be used as a coaster. Noted.

Ellie brought home straights A’s with a sprinkling of A+’s.

She had straight “E’s” for “Excellent” in all of the flowery stuff including Self Regulation.

Sadly, none of that matters on what is arguably a glowing report card, “Ellie should be proud of her excellent academic achievements.” Well she isn’t. Not one bit. Because on the same report that reads, “She demonstrates outstanding learning skills and work habits that set a fine example for others,” there is one, rogue, GIANT LETTER ‘B’.

She got a B in Dance.

I’m not a dancer, nor is Greg despite being referred to as Fred and Ginger. Wait, that might have been Fred and Wilma.

Our kids have never danced. They’ve never taken a dance lesson. It’s not against our religion, nor is it something we detest on some deep, emotional level. We just don’t do it. There’s simply no time and we can’t all be good at everything.

You might even say, we are exceptionally bad at all-things-dance unless we are talking about the Running Man which I nail every time.

It seems plausible then, that Ellie might not receive top marks in something she has never attempted outside of two periods of school Phys. Ed.

Why then do you suppose she has spent the past 18 hours asking me to hurry up and sign her up for dance lessons?

“I don’t care Mommy, ballet, jazz, hip-hop, whatever. Just get me into a dance class now. Probably hip-hop is the way to go.” She popped her elbow out of the socket. “Yep, definitely hip-hop.”

On the student evaluation portion of her report card under, “Future Goals” Ellie wrote, “I am going to work on coming up with some unique dance moves.”

Oh happy summer.