So last Friday Emily finished her last night of "pointe club" -- a week of dance classes, each 2 1/2 hours long, that included 20 minutes of learning to dance on her toes...Ouch.
She started off the weekend before with an eagerness and excitement that filled her daddy and me with pride. I finished sewing the elastic and ribbons on her shoes, and she danced around the living room, using her new pointe shoes to demonstrate some of the other dance steps she'd learned.
It was exhilarating to her.
And she eagerly anticipated her first class on Monday, just knowing she was a "natural" for this kind of dancing.
Nerves mixed with the fact that she forgot her regular dance shoes (and one of her fellow dancers just had to exclaim quite loudly her amazement at such a fact) caused the first night to be less than she'd hoped.
And they were only doing 20 minutes of en pointe each night? Despite her tender toes, she was so disappointed.
Until the second night when she came home with blisters on her blisters and very sore feet.
Somehow the week went downhill from there...
Each night the drama got heavier and sadder and, well, more dramatic. Oscar nominations were being handed in left and right.
You remember the worms song? "Nobody likes me...everybody hates me..." No, I didn't use it. But I did try pep talks...hot, bubble baths...hugs...
Sigh.
Finally, I told her to buck up and enjoy it because there were lots of other children all over the world who would have loved such an opportunity but couldn't have it because of blah, blah, blah.
I know. I know. I resorted to the "eat your spinach because..." lecture.
But sometimes it's the truth...and it needs to be said.
Anyway, "pointe" taken. *wink*
She finished the week of classes...with only a few minor complaints at the end.
*grin*
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