Confession: I spent many years as a ballet mom. This means that when my daughter was thirteen or fourteen, dancing in the corps of some local production or other, I'd be craning my head from side to side for a glimpse of her prettily waving arms, completely ignoring the principals, except for an irritated wish that they would stop twirling and jumping around in front of her. That's actually a mild version of ballet mom-dom. I've seen parents dragging reluctant children from dance school to dance school, yelling at teachers and trying to get... More >>>