The world is a wonderful, if very wacky, place to be.

Ballerina

It’s June and my hands are sticky with hair gel. This can only mean one thing: dance recital season.

There’s nothing like watching a flutter of little ballerinas cavorting on a stage. Lyra, of course, is the least little one.

I'll only worry if she gets in the habit of beginning sentences with the words "fee fie foe fum".

When we entered the class for the first lesson the teacher tried to explain to me that this was the kindergarten group. When she realized that by age, Lyra was in the correct room, the teacher looked up and down my 5 foot, 5.5 inch frame and asked, “so, where are the tall genes in the family?”. Fortunately, Lyra doesn’t think too much about being a half a head taller than the really tall girls, or that she towers over her more moderately sized classmates. She’s just there to dance.

And does she dance.

With her whole heart.

Next year she moves up to the first grade classes with their black leotards and chiffon skirts.

Portrait of the Ballerina as a Young Woman.

I’m enjoying the pink while it lasts.

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Comments on: "Ballerina" (1)

  1. I can’t believe how grown up she looks with her hair slicked back like that.

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