It just never occurred to me my daughter might not share my interests. I signed her up for dance class and she hates it. How can that be? I loved the frilly pink tutu and the sparkly hair clips! I could not wait for the recitals and the costumes crammed with sequence. Sasha cries the minute I walk in with a pair of tights. How then can my offspring reject this opportunity? Before I can get her into the car she’s rolling in the dirt. Her light pink tights are covered with grass stains. I never would have desecrated my dance wear in this way -that was my sister Heather who hated….NOOOOO! Please God don’t tell me she’s inherited the anti ballet gene. If that’s the case I have a whole lot of drama ahead of me and not the kind you bring flowers backstage for. I’m calling my Mother right now. I need a preemptive strategy.