An Unlikely Ballerina
My daughter isn’t necessarily the ballerina type. She’s always been big for her age, and when she asked to take ballet lessons, I knew it had more to do with her desire to wear a sparkly tutu than it did with her love for the dance. But I’m the type of parent that thinks that kids should be able to try any activity they want at least once (within reason, of course — and preferably one thing at a time.) Since she was in an activity lull, I went ahead and signed her up for a tap/ballet combo class back in December.
She absolutely loved it. It didn’t hurt that she was in a class with one of her best friends. When it came time to decide if she would participate in the recital or not, I decided to go for it. I was afraid she would feel left out if all the other girls were practicing for it and getting their costumes. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.
After paying for ballet lessons and her recital costume, I found out that we had to purchase tickets for the recital — at $15 a pop. Then I discovered that the recital was THREE HOURS LONG. Of course, her portion was all of 5 minutes.
Nevermind the time and effort it took to get that stick-straight hair into a halfway decent looking bun.
She talked for weeks about getting to be on stage, and she didn’t have a moment of fear. Finally, her big moment arrived. Her recital was on Saturday.
I daresay her little class stole the show. It’s impressive to watch the older girls in the studio, but there’s nothing as cute as that Beginner Ballet class. No one was entirely sure exactly what they were supposed to do, and they were all looking to each other for direction. Then of course there was the one that spotted her mom in the audience and spent half of the routine waving to her.
Too. Cute. For. Words.
Unfortunately I don’t think we’ll be doing ballet again. I’ve been informed that we’re returning to gymnastics next year. Honestly, that’s probably a better fit for my sturdy, energetic daughter; but I have to admit that I’m just a tad disappointed. Not that I’ll resent missing out on another three-hour dance marathon. But there’s nothing quite as cute as a little girl in a dance costume.
That’s a tired little punkin. Three hours was a long haul for her too!