Tiny Dancer

It was an exciting school year for us. Aimee started preschool and went to a nursery school down the street from us. I may have mentioned that it is the same one I went to a million years ago. Okay, not really a million, but over 30 anyway. She loved it and it was such a proud time for Gary and I as parents to see her grow and flourish. From day one when she knew no one else in the class to the middle of the year when she could tell me all of the kids in the class. She learned to write her name and never was I more sure of her name when she mastered it two "e's" and all. We get it backwards every once in a while but for the most part she can tell when she has done it backwards and when it is correct. Sometimes I wonder if she does it just to test me. School ended last week and she will be headed to pre-K in the fall.

She also kept very busy with her extracurricular activities which this year included dancing. It was here in dancing that she learned her left and her right. Her dancing teacher, a sweetheart of a woman named Katelyn taught them that "Lenny" is left and "Ralph" is right. I know this will be one of the things that Aimee will never forget how she learned. I took dancing once upon a time, I even have a picture of me from my first recital when I was her age. I was never a serious dancer and gave it up in about the 5th or 6th grade, but still it was something to get her into and she loved it. Every Friday at 4PM, Nicole and I would bring Aimee in her leotard and tights with dancing shoes and drop her off (another first) for a full hour of ballet, tap and acrobats. Nicole so wanted to go in each week and dance with her, but the school rules state that all dancers must be at least 3 to start so she still has another year before she can don the leotard and tights.

But like everything else in the school year now that June has arrived, dancing has ended but before it did, we had a recital. Now, when I spend all day with the kids, they do get out of control and I feel as though my day is spent more as referee rather than mother. They act out at me and each other and I sometimes forget that they are still just so little. Never was this more apparent than when I saw my baby on stage in her little tu-tu and hair pulled back tight looking so grown up but still so small. It was all I could do not to cry like a baby seeing her coming out onto the stage. I will admit to shedding a tear but at least I didn't bawl which was my first instinct.

I know that the lyrics don't quite match the post but my little ballerina and the picture of her here will always be with me, my tiny dancer.