Ballet

I mentioned in a previous post about my lack of ballet-class-taking desire. So when it was time for Greta to go to her first ballet class, I had mixed emotions. Of course, I wanted her to love the class, afterall she was too adorable for words in her little leotard and tights, oh. . the shoes. The school is very strict, kind of prim and proper, which is probably why I never liked ballet when I was a kid; and so ballet slippers, pink ballet slippers no less, was a must in order to take the class. 

I don’t know if she really understood the whole concept, but the entire way there she just repeated over and over, “I going to ballet cass, I’m going to ballet cass.”  Her particular class is for 2-3 year olds, and moms are not allowed in the room. This will be the first time she has ever left me to go to a stranger, with a wall between us. Honestly, I didn’t think she would do it. I figured we would buy all the stuff, pay the tuition, get there and she would look around and say, no way jose. Oh, how wrong I was. 

This little girl didn’t even bother to wave. She walked into the studio with 2 other little girls, both towering above her by a good 4-6 inches, and never really looked back. The other moms and I had a little 2 by 2 window we could peek in to watch and take pictures. She caught me a few times in the window and just waved as she was flitting by on her little slippers. She loved Teacher Ewizabet, as Greta pronounces her name, and talks about her all the time now.

Yes, my daughter now takes ballet. I can’t believe we’re here already. I used to talk about this day all the time when she was a baby, we would pass the ballet school and I would see all these little girls in their outfits and buns coming out, and I just couldn’t imagine the time ever coming. 

We’re here now.

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