Yesterday I had the unique experience of watching my daughter, and about a dozen other girls and one boy, begin to learn ballet. She put her little feet into tiny slippers and was transformed into a miniature ballerina. Last night she spent lots of time showing her Daddy first and second positions as well as jumping from one to the other. She was remarkably well behaved in class and tried to follow Miss April’s instructions as best she could That is, until the 30 minute mark when they switched from ballet to tap when she stood like a statue, feet glued to the ground.
You see, Mommy didn’t buy her tap shoes because really, how much money can you spend on one kid? Plus, she’ll probably grow out of them sometime next week and then I’ll have to buy another pair. And if she decides she really hates dance then we’re stuck with a pair of barely used tap shoes which aren’t good for much, except tapping. Miss April asked her, What’s wrong sweetie? She looks at her feet, I don’t have the right kind of shoes. Does she know how to break your heart or what?
So after class I asked her if she had fun? Yes! and would she like to go to dance class tomorrow too? Yes! — which means the first yes was true — and did she think we should buy her some tap shoes? Yes!! I told her to ask her Daddy and if he said yes we would go get them. Well, he had barely walked in the door when she abandoned sucking fingers in her bed and ran to the top of the stairs Daddy, may me please have tapping shoes? Of course he said yes, so when we go back to dance class today she should be able to shuffle with the best of them.