The trouble with parents

She had to vent. I went to make a delicious wrap for dinner and returned to a very accurate monologue:

"So I'm really beginning to not be able to tolerate parents in my gym anymore. I can't stand the parents of the 3 year olds who are only setting their children up for disaster. They let them get away with murder, so when I tell them that they aren't following directions or make a correction on a cartwheel, they sit and pout and cry for the next 10 minutes. Sorry kid, you aren't always going to be first, you aren't always going to do it right, you are never going to be perfect! And THEN I love the parents who can't realize that when their daughter gets a concussion because her arms gave out under her weight after doing a backhandspring that it might be the time to give up the sport. Gymnastics isn't meant for overweight children; try sumo wrestling. I also don't understand the parents who have the hundreds of dollars to buy their children every Webkinz under the sun, but then complain about entry fees and prices of tuition. People drive me NUTS!"

Hence why I run away from parents after every gymnastics class I teach.

Hence why the idea of irate parents on Parent-Teacher Conference Day was truly a factor in keeping me from choosing Childhood Education as a career path.

Hence why a part of ME is injured every time a child rolls an ankle or claims she "broke her head."

Hence why every good save isn't just a relief for the health of the child, but a relief from the vision of a lawsuit.

Oh, if only we could all frolic happily in our gymnastics bubble without the parents peering through the glass.