One of those “firsts” weeks, if you will. Which is a good thing, but sometimes bittersweet.
Sweet Little m went off to Pre-Kindergarten. Or, as she calls it, her “Pre-K Kindergarten class. I remember calling it preschool, but then again, I’m ancient.
While she was more excited to go to school this year than last, she was also more poised. And would not hold hands with her brother outside the school door and did not want Mummy to take too many pictures once we got there.
The next day she started ballet class. The impossible cuteness!
I did pretty much the exact same thing when I took dancing and I was concentrating. Or when I took piano and I was concentrating. Or when I took art lessons and was concentrating. Or when I played volleyball/basketball/soccer and was concentrating.
And as I was standing there, watching my sweet girl, it occurred to me than even there, surrounded by 10 other sweet giggling girls in matching black leotards and pink tights, that she had somehow become a little bit elegant. That she has some tricks and turns of her neck that would do a swan proud. That with her long legs and nobbly knees, she wasn’t a baby any longer. Which lasted until she flung herself without reservation into my arms, “Oh Mama, it was heavenly! I just flew!” Yes, darling. You did.