Caging the Bird and letting him roll

So you've heard of helicopter moms right? 

Definition-helicopter parenting
noun Informal
1. a style of child rearing in which an overprotective mother or father discourages a child's independence by being too involved in the child's life: In typical helicopter parenting, a mother or father swoops in at any sign of challenge or discomfort.
(Thanks dictionary.com for that disturbingly accurate definition)
While accurate in some ways I don't feel this truly embraces the spirit of who I am. 
This brings me to the hummingbird.  

Definition- (courtesy again from dictionary.com) 1. a very small nectar-sipping New World bird of the family Trochilidae, characterized by the brilliant, iridescent plumage of the male, a slender bill, and narrow wings, the extremely rapid beating of which produces a humming sound: noted for their ability to hover and to fly upward, downward, and backward in a horizontal position.

For one,( despite being the male) I consider myself a very, ahem....colorful person....and yes, if you listen clearly, I move with a slight hum. Hummingbirds and helicopters as seen above are similar in that they are "hoverer's." I think the image of the hummingbird suits me better though. These little birds just seem so anxiety ridden to me. With their nervous little wings beating, beating,beating incessantly... They dart to and fro collecting their nectar but seem constantly on the move- round and round.... See what I'm getting at?
I hate being that mother. I hate hearing myself audibly gasp and feeling my heart plummet into my puke ridden stomach when I see my son about to fail. But life is about failing and success doesn't taste as sweet unless you've hit your face on the pavement once or twice (proverbially speaking or otherwise).
That brings me to this morning and the previous analogy seems appropriate.
Another girlfriend of mine, one who has thoroughly embraced her environment, (Love that by the way) has signed her kids up for morning activities at the local university/sports park. Having checked it out last week with her, I was thoroughly impressed by the selection of activities and the price. Classes in Chinese? No problem. Wyatt just needs to watch anyway. End story?-From 8:30-10 each day this week Wyatt has rollerblading class. 
We had gotten these Rollerblades awhile ago and due to lack of patience and frustration on both parties, have never really put them to good use. So I set my alarm for 7:30 AM ,for adequate time to get ready and held my breath. 
For some reason Wyatt and I both overslept. Crap Crap and Double Crap. I hate being late and I hate being rushed. 8:15 he jumps on me and I promptly freak and get him dressed, throw a breakfast bar at him and bike us to the sports park by 8:27. Not the start I was looking for, but we beat the teacher and had time to gear up. Thank you God. Luckily I met a mother whose daughter was also taking the class and she spoke both English and Chinese. She also was able to communicate with the instructor, telling her  that my son was a beginner....as in... He WILL fall if- you- let- him- go- beginner. This proved to be helpful info. 
I suited him up for battle and watched him...fall. I started to flit...fwd, backwards, sideways... Typical hummingbird fashion. The instructor took Wyatt's hands and together they were trying to communicate with one another about proper rollerblading form. The urge to explain what she was doing was strong. He looked over at me. I was hovering, humming in place... I confirmed with the second instructor that I pick him up at 10, and knew I needed to get out of there. He needed to fall on his face without me there to pick him up. I knew if I stayed he would quit. So here I sit in Starbucks writing this -my mind buzzing around even if my body is not. One can only make so much progress at a time. 
For now the bird is caged. I just can't promise I won't let him out at 10:01. 

This pretty much sums me up. Now to make her logo a hummingbird.....

P.S. Upon picking him up he was covered in sweat, a self proclaimed expert, and apparently teaching another little boy in the class (who was presumably worse than himself) how to skate.  Oh, and he asked me to sign him up for next week.