I think you recognize that you are projecting quite a bit on him. These embarrassment, the insecurity, the fear…this your baggage, not his. This is your story that you are telling. Why write it on him when he is perfectly happy dancing away? He derives his joys in different ways than you do, and one day, he will have his own insecurities and hang-ups that may be completely different than yours.
My mother is not a risk-taker. She never saw herself as having any exceptional talents beyond having a good head on her shoulders, and she derives her joy from working steadily and deliberately towards an achievable goal. She shies away from competition and status, and prefers to work quietly towards her own milestones. Socially, she is a peacemaker and strives to be well-liked and keep people around her in harmony
Well, I am very much a risk taker. I am stunningly talented in a few things, and horribly bad at others. I’m not well disciplined, but I can light a fire under myself when the stakes are high, and I can be a very high achiever. Socially, some people love me and some people can’t stand me, and I’m fine with that- I’d rather be myself than spend my life trying to be everyone’s best friend.
When I was a child, I desperately wanted to join Little League. I was enamored with the funny socks, the fresh-cut grass, the team names, and the pizza party at the end where everyone got fake little trophies. My mother would not let me join. Teamwork and athleticism certainly were very much not my strong points, and she said she did not want me to feel like a failure or get made fun of. This happened a few times in my life. I wanted to attend a rigorous International Baccalaureate public charter school with a very heavy course load of college-level classes. Despite being a good student, she was afraid I wouldn’t be up to it and would find the atmosphere too competitive. I wanted to compete in the individual sport I did, and she discouraged it because she knew I wouldn’t win (and she didn’t compete when she did it). To me, it all seemed kind of pointless without the thrill of competition, so I trudged my way through it in a mediocre way until I finally quit.
What I eventually internalized is that it’s better not to do something than to do something and be bad at it. So, when it came to things that didn’t come naturally, I just gave up. I’m not great with numbers, so I just faked my way through the lowest level math classes in school. I wasn’t good at sports, so I just figured I was one of those people who would never be able to run a ten minute mile and walked during gym class. I don’t have an ear for language, so I figured it’d be a waste to take it in college. Since there are plenty of things that I have natural talent at, I never seemed poorly rounded and it never really caught up with me.
It’s honestly not until the last few years that I learned that I can do things that I’m not a natural at. When I had to take the GRE, I spent months doing two hours a day of study to learn the high-school math I figured I could never do. I realized that I actually really like physical movement, and I’ve become a (slow, bad form, but persistent) runner. I picked up a few languages and have a pretty good working knowledge, even if i was never a language super star. I went to a top school with a tough program for grad school, and busted ass through it. Most importantly, I learned that discipline and study is just as effective as raw talent, even if it isn’t as efficient. My world has expanded to include a range of things that I’m not naturally good at. I wish I had known this earlier- I could have been a doctor, even though I’d have to had worked at the math. I could have always been in shape.
So the story here is that the things he finds rewarding might be vastly different than the things you find rewarding. The things he fears probably will not be the things that you fear- and you really don’t want to burden him with your insecurities as well as his own. And this kind of projecting can have some real long-term consequences.