On the first day of dancing class I’m sure I was more excited that she was. My little girl, who with a pail and a shovel could entertain herself for hours digging for worms, was putting on a dance leotard for the first time. Off she went, with nervous anticipation for her very first class of her very first ‘activity’. I signed her up for dancing because after learning I was pregnant with my third – another boy – I thought it would be a special time for us to have together. Just us. No Boys Allowed. And indeed, for nearly a year it became our Saturday morning routine. The one time each week when getting her dressed didn’t become a battle of wits, and I could actually get her into the car without breaking a sweat. Because this was our “just the girls” time as she calls it.
Each week, she proudly announced that today was the day she was going to Her School. And in late December when her baby brother Matthew was born – I’m sure this undisturbed routine became like therapy for her when everything else in her world turned upside down and inside out because she was no longer the baby. This was her little sanctuary where it could all be about her.
I’m sharing this now because last night we celebrated the long awaited and much anticipated event; The Dance Recital. And as you will see, while a year-long tradition of dance lessons has done little for this tiny dancer’s skill, it has done far greater things for us. A mommy and her girl enjoying a little slice of harmony together.
So enjoy this video Addison is the one in the middle with the bad case of the itchies, scratchies and twitchies dancing to the beat of her own drummer. Although this is from the dress rehearsal, I can assure you the real thing had no major improvements.