After all of the drama of last week, my baby girl is starting dance camp. I am at a loss. I am the antithesis of a dance mom.
A ponytail every day? I rely on her school teachers for any elaborate hairdos (and yes, I consider a ponytail elaborate). They typically hold beauty shop right after nap time. I always cross my fingers that it lasts through the night well enough that I do not have to redo anything in the morning.
Is she supposed to wear tights or shorts with that leotard? Seems almost indecent to me.
And that damn pink ballet shoe? She has one. The other is MIA. I have torn this house apart and turned it all upside down. I am certain it will resurface somewhere obvious. Most likely after the last day of camp…
She has dreamed of this moment since birth. Seriously. She has even gone so far as acting out going to “dance class” every single day after school for months… practicing putting on her leotard and prancing about with her dance bag slung across her shoulder. I am grateful that it is not something dangerous she has her heart set on, like baseball…
I will admit that I am a teensy bit jealous, as I had grand dreams of becoming a prima ballerina myself as a young girl.
Good luck, my little Bug. I love you!