In our ongoing quest to expose Annie to learning environments that will simultaneously enrich and exhaust her, we signed her up for dance lessons. I use the term “lessons” loosely. It’s an intro to dance class for three and four year olds. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – the people who teach these kids classes are awesome. The thought of being the only adult in a room of eight jumping, spinning Annabels? I don’t have it in me. I bow down to these people.
The teacher sent the parents an email a few days before the first class with specifications for shoes, clothing, etc. Luckily her parameters matched up with Annie’s idea of what she should look like for dance class, AKA every ballerina she’s ever seen on TV or in a book.
Just like before her first swimming and gymnastics classes, Annie was jazzed. And just like before those classes, I was like, “Well, we’ll see what happens, she’s so young, we’ll just try it…” Annie actually missed the age cut off for this class by five days, so I called to see if they could make an exception. They said it would be no problem, but I still worried. It was a waste of energy – Annie marched right into that class confident as can be.
The class is taught in a room at the rec center, and the parents have to sit outside. There’s just a small window in the door and the parents have to take turns looking through (and some parents abuse this, don’t get me started). A few of the kids (and a few of the parents) weren’t really thrilled with this arrangement, but Annie could not have cared less. She was like, “YAY! DANCING! BYE MOM!”
I don’t mind waiting outside at all, although the little pieces of class I’ve seen through the window look pretty hilarious.
She’s had two classes so far and she is in heaven. I like that she’s comfortable with the teacher. I honestly don’t think she even realizes that I’m right outside the door. I could be on the moon for all she cares. When I walk back in to get her after class is over, she runs up to me all excited, “Mama, mama! I got a hand stamp! I did twirls! I sang a song!” (She is the only kid singing along to the music. We can all hear her through the door.)
At the end of the eight-week class, there is a “recital.” OMG. I cannot wait. It’s going to be the sweetest/cutest/funniest thing I’ve ever seen.