Well, here we go!
My oldest daughter, Malia, went to her first dance class last Wednesday night. For months now she’s been telling us that she wanted to go to “ballerina school.” It’s her mother’s fault because each Christmas the two of them attend The Nutcracker (a tradition that was born out of my deep desire to not have to see it myself).
Since Malia wanted it so badly, we decided to pursue it, and she’s four now so this is a good time to start. I wasn’t able to make it, but Malia loved her trial class. Rochelle sat in another room, behind glass with other parents and learned about their experiences while watching a recital video another mother had taken on her cell phone.
They both left dance class excited!
So excited in fact, that Rochelle went ahead and paid for classes through May — when we’ll get to video our child.
So now it begins. Soon Malia will need tutu’s and ballet shoes and tap shoes and God knows what else — and by “soon” I mean this Wednesday. I almost bankrupted my parents with baseball and band while growing up, and those things are a lot cheaper than ballet and tap! Soon there will be leg warmers and tights and those huge sweatshirts that dancers wear.
And that fact makes me both excited for Malia and said for myself.
Part of me wants her to just stay home with us playing with Play-Doh and Crayons? Not just because it’s cheaper, but because it’s something she can do at home with me sitting next to her or her sitting in my lap. I’m just that kind of dad who loves to sit in the “big chair” and read stories and tell tales. But times are changing, my girls are growing up and their interest are extending beyond our house and I know I should encourage that.
As our Lord says, “Who among you, if your child ask for bread would give a stone?”
So now it begins, and I’m off to buy ballet shoes.