Ballet Day

Mia had her very first ballet lesson earlier this week, and it all went perfectly.  She was beyond excited that morning, jumping into the bathtub without complaint, then skipping around in her leotard and tights.  She held her head straight as I pulled her wet hair into an off-center bun. 

And away we went.  With not only one, but two ballerinas.  Because sweet Lauren needed to be included in the day's excitement as well. 

After showing Mia to her classroom, Lauren and I sat in the waiting room, watching the Mia's every move being piped to us via closed-circuit TV. 

I've asked Mia several times over the past few years if she wanted to take ballet lessons, and the answer has always been the same: No.  She didn't know how to be a ballerina, so she wouldn't take the lessons.  I tried to convince her that none of the little girls in her class would know what they were doing yet -- that was the point of the classes -- but still, she refused.  Until sometime last month.  I don't know what the change was, and I'd worried that she would sit alone quietly in the lessons without participating until she grew more comfortable. 

But she definitely didn't sit alone quietly. She leaped and twirled and pranced and swept and bowed.  With much drama and poise.  And imperfection.  But she did everything, just like her classmates. I was so proud of her willingness to try. 

Lauren was too -- proud and maybe a little bit envious.  She kept trying to sneak down the hallway to Mia's studio, grinning when she was caught, then rushing to copy the dancing girls' moves on the TV screen.

It was a good, good day.