I decided long ago that this year Bea would join GB and go dancing. As she is three, but still not in her preschool year, I was keen for her to do something "organised" but reluctant to put her in for an early nursery year as I have the ominous feeling that she will be forced into formal education soon enough and remain there for some considerable time. I looked at several dancing places, but "Evie's" was the time that suited me most.
Bea has on many occasions indicated that she would enjoy dancing. I picked up on her subtle clues like the twirling, tippy toeing around the living room, leaping, wafting arms and positively stating "I am doing ballet". This was added to by a love of ballerinas in literature (aka her picture books and any book the library possesses which features a creature in a tutu). Thus, her first foray into the world of dance was, naturally, a bit of an anti-climax.
Beatrice has been fostering a dislike for loud noises. It was initially noticed at Funworks earlier this year, when the sound of the air guns terrified her. With absolutely no parental encouragement she has cultured this aversion to include an allergy to hand-dryers, hair-dryers, vacuum cleaners, loud music and balloons popping. The praise band at CHW could not look in Bea's direction for any encouragement...
Thus, when Gillian the dance instructor turned on the music and in a robust Scottish accent commanded her circle of tiny dancers to begin tapping their toes (encased as they were in tap shoes) the subsequent noise threw Bea off her normally confident keel. Thankfully her chum Evie was on hand to offer a neck to cling to and a comforting hand to hold. Bea, stuck limpet like to Evie, regarded the circle of co-ordination around her (including boogy Beth - who on her very first class had the swinging hips sorted) and realised she had inherited her mother's dancing gene. She came running over to me and announced "But Mummy I can't do it". My heart broke a little and I began to worry...not that she couldn't master tapping her toe, but that she was afraid to try. I do not want her never to try things because she isn't yet perfect. I want her to understand that most of life requires patience and practice. When we are naturally gifted at something, when it comes easily...that is a blessing, but not the normal state of play. She was ushered back and Evie loved her back to confidence. Holding tightly to Evie's hand, she was able to march, raise her hands and scoop up a big spoonful of sugar. The comfort of her friend allowed her the boldness to try again and while she still hadn't the flair of all the other red uniformed girls (or Beth) she did it. And I was SO PROUD!
The following week "the mummies" were not allowed to stay, so Bea was cast adrift with only her friends to steer her. They obviously did a pretty good job because when Mummy returned, filled with tea and toasted tea cake, Gillian confided "Yes she was much better this week, she only had a little strop". I suggest that it was when Bea wanted to freestyle and teach the class "her ballet" and Gillian laughed with an "that is exactly it". I was, once again, so proud. There was little Bea "try, try, trying again" AND learning to follow instructions (a much more essential skill than simply learning to tap her toe). Fuelled by this pride and resolved to keep her at it, particularly as she had bounced out of the door with delight at the end of the class, I decided to invest in her uniform.
It was waiting for us on Friday evening when we arrived to class. I tied the tap shoes on Bea, gave her a kiss, stashed the uniform in the car and set off for an ice cream (it is so hard being a Mummy). Bea was content to tap away, safe in the knowledge that she had a uniform, and remain in her ordinary clothes. Until, of course we returned home. Then the uniform had to be thoroughly tested for twirl ability. Other mummies have managed to get pictures of their tiny dancers standing sweetly in their uniforms. Not me. The uniform threw Bea into all sorts of twirling and toe pointing shapes. But she is so proud of it! Almost as proud as I am of her.
This morning her first question was "can I wear my dance uniform Mummy?". When the response was negative, she searched for numerous reasons and conditions why she "just needed to". We managed to progress through the day when I hid the tap shoes.
Heaven help us when the GB uniform arrives!
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