Jumping Through Hoops

A dad, of course, thinks that the sun rises and sets in his daughter.  And he’s right.  My 6-year-old taught me an important lesson this week about what it takes to be a winner, and why sometimes the only thing you need in life is a hula-hoop and a lot of guts.

Earlier this week I accompanied my daughter for the “Variety Show” auditions at her elementary school.  She had been practicing for weeks and, to the best of our knowledge, was part of a group of adorable first grade classmates who were going to do a hula-hoop routine together.  What could be easier?  My daughter is a gregarious creature with lots of friends.  In the parenting department, this felt like a piece of cake. Or so I thought.  What happened at school just minutes before the tryouts began reminded me that you’re a parent 24/7…and that my job as a dad is to be ready for whatever comes her way.

As the kids lined up in the gym for their chance to impress the judging panel, my daughter walked up to me with tears in her eyes.  “Something’s wrong,” she explained.  “And I don’t know how to fix it.”  I immediately assumed that the hula-hoop had somehow broken or that her costume had come undone.  Smugly, I started to reassure her because, as a Super-Dad, I had brought an extra hula-hoop and was even ready with a sewing kit for any costume malfunctions.  Surely, I thought, my wife will be so impressed when I report to her that I saved the day at the tryouts!

I soon learned that the problem wasn’t so easy to fix.  “The other girls decided they don’t want me in their act.  What should I do?”

My heart sank.  I realized that this was just the beginning of those trickiest of lessons and situations we’d be going through for years to come.  She’s just 6…and yet in my mind I was fast forwarding to teen years, heartbreaks, and disappointments that are just around the corner.  I knew it was probably a misunderstanding between her and her friends, but she was already feeling how deeply rejection or isolation can cut into our hearts.  I was starting to map out ways to help her seamlessly exit the scene and not feel like a failure.  I was ready to be her emotional escape hatch and somehow try to help her regain her confidence even if she couldn’t be part of the act.

The solution, however, came a few seconds later right from my little daughter’s remarkable mind.  “If I do my act alone, will you clap for me, Dad?  If you can stay here, I’ll do it!”

A big hug, and a few minutes later, my little performer was handing her CD to the technician, and while Bruno Mars eloquently crooned “You’re amazing…just the way you are….” she twirled and smiled and and hula-hooped her little heart out.  Indeed Bruno and I were in agreement….she was the most amazing thing in my life at that moment.  I realized that I would not have helped her if I’d let her exit the gymnasium at the first sign of trouble.  She had the guts to go on with the show, and just needed me to be a fan in the audience.

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about those few minutes in that musty elementary school gym.  Am I ready to be a fan on the sidelines when people need to go it alone?  Do I recognize those moments when people want to put it all out there and need me to be their guaranteed applause?   More importantly, am I ready to embrace those moments when I will have to go it alone, as my daughter did this week?

She made the variety show line-up, by the way.  How could she NOT?  She had everything she needed:  some serious hula-hoop chops, guts, and a very proud Dad clapping for her all the way in the audience.