glissade, glissade, jete, jete, jete and other moves i missed

Imagine my horror walking up to Hazel’s ballet class window and seeing all the other parents sitting in the room watching their little darlings dancing lightly on their feet. I was doing what I always do during her ballet class; I was getting coffee with August. Little did I know that today the parents were welcomed, no, no - encouraged to observe the dancers.
I stood at the window feeling a mixture of dread, regret and sadness. I dreaded the idea of Hazel’s reaction upon leaving the safety of the dance room. I knew she would take her frustration out on me, her frustration from being left standing alone with no parent to dote on her. To be honest, I would fully understand. The regret I was feeling was that I had indeed missed a lovely opportunity of watching my daughter act as if nothing else was in the room except the giant wall length mirror and her own reflection. And the sadness, well the sadness because I could imagine her heart beating a bit faster as she saw all the other parents file into the room waiting and waiting for me only to realize that I was not in the line. That I was not coming to watch her.
The waiting room is always rather crowded what with parents waiting to either pick up or drop off their dancers. When I realized what I had missed I weaved my way towards the door wanting to catch Hazel in my arms as soon as she stepped lightly from the studio. Each child walked out holding their parents hand proudly…and then there was Hazel. Her eyes were downcast, her shoulders slumped. My heart broke. I bent down, our eyes met and she was crying. She spoke as she sobbed questioning why I had not watched her. Wide eyed I explained her that I did not know, if I had known I would have sat with all the other parents. I would have beamed while I watched her. All I could do now was pick her up and squeeze her tightly and reassure her that I would always be there and that I was sorry.