If there’s one thing in life that I know, it’s that our little lady loves to dance. She doesn’t really walk through life, but pretty much dances her way through each day, music or no music. If there’s music playing you better believe she is going to show you a move or two. If it’s silent, she is making up her own songs and dancing to them. She sometimes sets up this little mirror she has against the wall and “practices” her ballet. “First position,” I hear her saying to herself. “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.” It really is the most precious thing to witness.
Growing up, I was a dancer and it held such a special place in my heart. If you’ve ever taken a dance class, you know that special feeling I’m talking about – there’s nothing like it. I still dance around my kitchen at random moments. An arabesque here, a releve there. Jetes, pirouettes and plies. They’ll remain with me forever, because let’s face it, when you do something for so long it just never leaves you. It’s also a nice reminder to myself that although I am approaching 26 and haven’t danced a ballet class in many years, I still maintain that flexibility. So to watch my daughter already developing that same love for dance warms my heart, and unless she someday decides that she doesn’t want to dance anymore, I look forward to many dance recitals, costumes and lots of crying from this mama.