I was never on any sports teams growing up. I didn’t do soccer, volleyball, basketball, or the like. I played church sports a couple times and always felt hugely impaired. What I did do is dance. I started dancing as a little girl of 5 or 6, and didn’t stop until my feet were cracked and bleeding, my hamstrings were permanently detached, my knees were void of cartilage and my hair was so big it had its own microclimate (my hair actually paled in comparison with my fellow dancers). Roughly, about 15 years. I miss it every day.
Grace started her first dance class a few weeks ago. It was greatly anticipated. I didn’t get to watch her first class, but I peeked in now and again and she was all smiles.
Then when class was over, she burst into tears because her teacher gave her a yellow sticker instead of a pink one.
At her next class, there were tears because all the kids got to dance with scarves, and of the 20 scarves in the box, there was only ONE RAINBOW scarf, which of course she didn’t get. 
Could you just die at the cuteness of the tiny little girl standing behind her in the ginormous tutu?
There were actually about 4 or 5 girls crying because they didn’t get the rainbow scarf. I almost stole it, just so I could throw it in the dumpster and save everyone the grief.
She got to hold the rainbow scarf here briefly, but then had to go back to holding the purple scarf…hence the pout below.
Her class is a combination ballet and tap. I could do without the tap. No offense to any tappers out there, but to me, tapping isn’t really dance. It’s just noisy. But kids like to make noise, so off she goes.
I am thrilled for her to be starting this journey.
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