To her own beat

For the past year, Riley and I have been going to Kindermusik. This is a hilarious music program for babies as young as newborn up till they're gigantic 7-year-olds. Once a week, we get together with our baby pals to sing, chant nursery rhymes and bounce around to silly games.

It's a blast. We've made lots of friends and enjoyed every minute of it. I really think that it's the reason Riley's got such a strong vocabulary. Granted, my verbal brakes are a little weak, so she could be following my example. But I really believe the research on the bazillions of benefits of exposing your kids to music at an early age.

So after a year, we've finally moved up from the baby program to the toddler class. Yesterday was our first trip. I first thought we were in the wrong room because we didn't know any of the kids and almost all of them were three times Riley's size. To me, these were not toddlers. These were free agents awaiting a call from the NFL. They were running, throwing, howling, jumping and tackling. All that was missing from this Broncos spring training session was a tire trail and helmets.

Riley was not nearly as concerned about the new crowd as I was. She was quieter than usual and hovered closer to me than she usually does with her pals, but she didn't seem intimidated. As soon as the music started, she was good. She didn't respond as vocally as she normally does, but she did stand up and do The Riley Dance to the beat of whatever song was playing.

She did her own thing as the rest of the team ran their drills. She didn't worry about getting mowed down. She didn't care that she was bouncing on my lap as the rest of the kids rolled all over the floor. She found her own little space in a sea of wild things and claimed it as her own.

To coin a music cliche, she danced to her own beat. So even as I tried to run interference and protect her from the mob, she seemed completely unafraid and secure. Even in my heightened maternal watchdog state, I was really proud.