I can't help it. I'm dang proud of my little ballerina. She'll ask a couple times a week if it's "Ballet day". She loves to get dressed up in her tights and leotard. She holds very still till I manage to gather all her tiny, little wisps of hair into a bun.
When I watch her on the observation days, she looks like she is actually trying to do exactly as the teacher has just demonstrated instead of just go through the motions. My favorite is the size of her smile the minute the door opens to her studio and she finds me in my seat in the hallway. These days will be long remembered.
She will look back at her parents several times throughout the observation day to make sure Mom and Dad are watching her every move. (See this previous post about the time when she caught her Dad not paying attention).
Such grace in her little movements.
This is a close semblance to the smile I get when she finds me at the end of regular Ballet practices.
Brother is quick to claim his sister as belonging to him. He has no problem giving her lots of praise.
When I see her like this, I can't help but think of the song, "Tiny Dancer".
(Elton John's version here or
Tim McGraw's here or
Elton and Tim together here)
Better find a florist nearby to bring her her very first bouquet come Saturday.
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