I’ve already posted about my love for ballet and the realization that I would never be a ballerina.
I remember falling in love with ballet sitting besides my grandmother in the dark of the Opera House watching the San Francisco Ballet.
The dancers seemed so delicate and fluid, like living breathing flower petals.
I watched The Red Shoes over and over as a child mimicking moves in my living room.
So, naturally as soon as I had a daughter I enrolled her in ballet.
I know, I know…
I sound like one of those moms who wants to live vicariously through their children. It’s not that I want Macaroni to do ballet because I couldn’t, but rather that I hoped that she would share a love for something that I loved.
Like most parents, I want to provide my children with opportunities I didn’t have as a child growing up. So, she took ballet and then ballet and tap briefly and then she stopped until she decided that she wanted to dance again.
And one day, she decided that she wanted to dance ballet and she was going to be a ballerina.
After her year at the ballet program she left stronger and more graceful than she stared.
“Mommy, I’m not sure I want to be a ballerina. I think I want to be a gymnast and compete like on Make It or Break It ” she said.
Will she be a dancer?
Last week she started gymnastics lessons.
And me, I couldn’t be more proud of my little dancer turned gymnast turned whoever and whatever she wants to be.