Two weeks ago Iris had her first dance class. I don't know who was more excited about it, her or me. Probably me! When I was little, about 4 years old, I desperately wanted to be a ballerina. My grandma taught ballet and would sometimes take me to class with her and she also made costumes for a ballet company. Beautiful, sparkly tutus were always hanging around in her living room and sewing room. One day I told her, "Grandma, I want to be a ballerina!" and do you know what she said? "You're going to be too tall to be a ballerina" and instead she gave me my first pair of tap shoes. (This was back in the day when leading ballerinas were only around 5'2", now they're almost all pushing 5'9") Anyway, I hated those tap shoes. I used to skid them up and down the sidewalk in front of her home making that horrid nails-on-a-chalkboard sound. As you can probably guess, I never got into tap or any other type of dancing for that matter. But I do still love all things ballerina!
I've mentioned my crushed ballerina dreams story a few times to my mom, who feels awful, and has vowed to make up for it through Iris. So as soon as she hit two years old she was signed up for "dancing school" as she calls it. And this mama just beamed seeing her dressed in her little tutu and loving every minute of it. She loves all the little girls and refers to them as her "ballerina friends", which is just about the cutest thing ever.
Friday nights in our home now hold the same excitement that Christmas Eve holds, because Saturday morning is dancing school and she's so giddy about it she can barely sleep! And if I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I'm always giddy about it too (but not in that weird Toddlers and Tiaras way)!
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