The Little Ballerina

I'll be honest, after how tumbling went, I was a bit nervous today about Bailey's first dance class.  But before I tell that story, I'll start from the true beginning.

 

 

Her outfit from almost two years ago STILL fits, just shorter than we like.

 

 

The past several months, Bailey has shown an interest in ballet and has on more than a few occasions referred to herself as a ballerina.  The more she was interested, the more we thought that perhaps it was time to put her in a ballet program.  This was something we had really wanted to do a long time ago, but had made the firm decision that we needed to make sure she was ready.  As thrilled as we were about her interest, there still came much hesitation and procrastination.  A new studio was opening up in town and suddenly it was chosen for us where we should take her.

It still wasn't that easy though.  The article in the paper didn't tell me anything past that, and I barely know much about this town the way it is, so I wasn't quite sure how I'd find this place if it wasn't online or in a phone book.  And just as I was defeated, I met this lady at my place of work, and through a chance encounter involving throw pillows, I learned of her open house the following night.  I want to believe fate played a role here.  But then yesterday happened.

We took Bailey to that open house, as she was super excited to start ballet.  The only snag, it's not actually Ballet, it's called Creative Movement, BUT DO NOT TELL MY CHILD THIS.  EVER.  I don't believe in lying to children, but details, details.  This is everything.  She was fitted for shoes that night (which she wouldn't stop talking about afterwards) and we paid for all kinds of new classes.  Bailey couldn't have been more enthralled by the dance floor, dance bars and mirrors, which she took advantage of, naturally. We were feeling lucky and accomplished and like proud parents should feel.

 

And then, yes, yesterday happened.  Which kind of made the almost past two weeks of preparation for "Ballet" seem like a hoax and a sick joke.  We were so carefree and maybe naive, but with new dance clothes and fresh attitudes over the subject, I was really hoping for great things.  But after yesterday when Bailey said she refused to go back to tumbling, I wasn't so sure about today.  I was a little unsteady.

 

She willingly got dressed in pink from head to toe and while we were getting ready, Bailey asked me a vital question. 

"Is my new ballet teacher going to play music?"

"Of course."

"Because I don't want to go if she's not going to play music."

"Of course there will be music."

"Good, because I like music.  I just like to dance to music."

My answer seemed to amuse her and was confident about what she was about to do.  I was still a little edgy.  I had seen things.

 

We walked down the corridor in a hurry, not wanting to be late and even after asking two people who were blocking the doorway to dance class to excuse us, we ended up having to shove our way through.  And that one woman DID hear me.  I hated telling Bailey, "just go ahead," but come on.  She's three.  She has class too.  LET HER THROUGH.  Without any second thoughts, Bailey went instantly to the teacher's assistant when she called to her, sat down and seemed right at home.  I was concerned that she was now barefoot, as she had worn a pair of pink flip flops to class because her ballet shoes were supposed to be in class.  I was hoping they had them.  I saw there were lots of mothers and other adults sitting, waiting to watch class start.  Man, did I know better.  I bolted into the hallway.

 

In the massive rule book the teacher sent out, it said parents were not to be in the studio while class was going on, and I'm all about following that rule.  I had no business witnessing that debacle yesterday in the tumbling auditorium, and I wasn't about to torture myself all over again.  And I knew I'd be a major distraction.  There was a part of me that hoped Bailey would like dancing more than tumbling.  She certainly couldn't have liked it any less, right?

 

I waited in the hallway with a couple other mothers and was eventually joined by others, who then left shortly thereafter.  I actually found myself chatting with these moms, and it felt right.  I don't chat with enough moms for whatever reasons, and sometimes when I do, I wonder why I don't try to meet more moms.  Like, I'm still wishing I'd run into those other two moms again that I met two different times at our favorite local Children's Museum.  So, we were talking and both of these moms have little girls who had been at a previous dance studio.  Both girls are turning five and the one actually goes to Kid's Day Out too.  The mom had asked me about that because yesterday her daughter was mentioning Bailey and she knew it couldn't be "the other Bailey," and was curious just who this Bailey was.  I told her the only redhead in the class and she had already noticed her.

 

The thirty minute class went by rather nicely as I sat out in the hallway and then the doors opened and the assistant came up to me.  Oh boy, now what?  She told me Bailey did really well and danced every dance with them.  I was so relieved, even though I secretly wondered if she was lying to me.  I still couldn't see my redhead as the area was flooded by a sea of pink tutus.  And then there she was.  Lollipop in hand, as victorious looking as could be and calmly approached me and said confidently, "I danced every dance with them to the music."  (She had not heard the assistant tell me that in the hallway either.) And then she proudly displayed her new ballet shoes to me, the ones the instructor had ordered especially for her.

 

And so we walked together out the doors, ballet shoes in hand, smiles on our faces.  I have never felt better.

And Bailey was joyful in announcing this meant she could put a sticker on her new behavior chart.

 

 

I'm hoping this isn't just a honeymoon period...but after the extensive dance recital she put on for us tonight in her new shoes along with many of her stuffed friends to Mozart's harmonious works, I'm thinking we might be okay...for another week.  She can't wait to return, and she is still telling me, "I don't want to go back to tumbling, just ballet."  I guess she really was just that bored.