Wow. That time is here; Brooklynn's first dance class. I grew up in dance and always dreamed of the day I'd have a daughter and get to put her in dance too. It just never dawned on me how quickly that time would come, and that time was this morning. It was one of those major mama moments and it was beautiful. I teared up with joy when I put her leotard on and again when she went through her bow drawer to pick the perfect one to match. She chose both yellow with sequins and a pink one that matched her tutu (that was the one Mama picked too). I was a bit emotional that our baby girl was growing up so quickly, but mostly just excited and proud. Daddy helped put her bow on and gave encouraging hugs and kisses bye bye, and we were on our way. On our way to the first day of what may be come her lifelong passion, something that we'd spend so many future years doing. My whole dance life flashed in my head and I can't wait for her to experience it all. (That is if she wants to, don't worry I'm not going to be the crazy forceful mom. She can choose her passions.) In my head I pictured all the practices and recitals and going from fun little Saturday toddler classes to rehearsals everyday. From stickers after class to trophies after competitions. To those proud moments when her Daddy will give her roses after recital. All of this in a ten minute drive to the studio. Magical thoughts.
We arrived early and got to watch "the big girls" (any of my fellow dancers remember idolizing them growing up?) and she thought they were "pwetty". As other tiny tots clad in pink arrived she would shyly smile, but get closer to me the more crowded it got. When it was time to line up, she clung... Hard. Though she knew both of her teachers from the basketball games, she was still a bit hesitant. So I walked her back along with one other mom who's daughter was on her first day too. Then the time came to set them in a circle, and for me to walk out. Fail. She immediately screamed "No, no Mama!", but with the help of her teachers holding her I made my exit. I wish I could say I got back to the lobby and saw her on the tv screens just tenduing her little heart out, but she was gripping tightly in the arms of one of her teachers. That continued for about ten minutes and they tried to ease her down with the rest of the class. She wasn't digging it. Then she'd get caught up and interested and about to like it, until she remembered the "doooooor, open the doooooor! Mamaaaaa!" The teachers did a great job at trying to keep bringing her back to the group and hold her to show her how the other girls did it. Meanwhile, the parents with me assured me it only lasts a couple times and then they love it. Which I know, I grew up in dance and taught the littles as well. It's funny, I've been the teacher and held that little girl who was scared and crying, but it's so different to see from the outside, as the mama. So, she didn't love it the first time. That's okay, we tried and we'll try again. After class, she had calmed down and gave both of her teachers a hug and kiss, and told them bye with a smile. So she wasn't fearful of them, that's a start. The whole way home she told me she liked dance and it was fun and that she wanted to go back. So we shall. Brooklynn certainly loves to dance and does it all the time, we've just got to pique turn across the floor away from her separation anxiety. We'll get there. Baby steps. Or maybe it's baby chassés.