Our little gal was So Very excited to have us watch her on Parent Day at the ballet studio a few days ago.
For two years, she watched her big sister go to ballet, and wavered in wanting to go, not wanting to go, until this year, when she decided with 100% certainty that she wants to take ballet lessons because “I want to wear those pretty dresses, too.”
Daddy was easy to convince. When our two gals join up in a cause and ask him for something, he is most often unable to resist. He is so smitten that he searched for, and purchased, a purple tutu because our little gal sweetly requested a “purple – not pink – one.” That was a sight that made my mama heart smile – seeing my tough man with a tiny purple tutu in his hand at the cash register.
Good thing these gals have a mama!
But I couldn’t say no this time, either. Ballet has improved the poise of our formerly-quite-clumsy 11-year-old. She improves with each year of ballet, in strength and in balance. Still, it was hard for me to let our little gal go. For the past two years, ballet hour has been our hour, when we’d roam our quaint little town, oooing over the flowers on the walkways (and picking just a couple), browsing the toy shop, eating ice cream (her) and sipping coffee (me) at the tiny coffee shop, or visiting the ducks and geese at the Bay. Sigh. I miss our ballet hour together.
I think she’s happy she chose ballet. We can roam another day.
A curtsy, if you please.
Oh, by the way, in case you ever wondered…coiled braids, even when insisted upon by a five-year-old ballerina, are not able to make it through an hour-long class.
Neither are five-year-old ballerinas.