My debut as a ballerina came late in life.
I had an idea, even though Sparkles was already taking a dance class at her day care, that she might like to take a dance class at a real studio with a ballet barre, a studio that had real recital with fancy costumes, in a real theater.
Sparkles refused to dance. She said she didn’t feel well or she was tired or she just didn’t want to. She wanted to go back to her old class. She loved Ms. Kristin, her old teacher.
Which is how I came to first perform ballet. The only way Sparkles would dance is if I danced with her. I learned the positions. I skipped and hopped and glided across the floor. I followed the stories and moved my body, as gracefully as I could, when the story asked me to make a rainbow with my arms. I was tall for the 4-year-old class and my jeans and socks didn’t meet the dress code, but the teacher said she didn’t mind.
Sparkles was still upset, though. She wanted to go back to her old dance class.
We had paid already for the registration, the recital fee, the costume fee and the actual class. Part of me said we had made a commitment and we had paid a lot of money, so we needed to see it through.
But the dance class at her day care was inexpensive. The small refund we would get from the fancy studio would pay for the day care class. And Sparkles hadn’t made the commitment, I did, without asking her about her old dance class and how she liked it.
So we went back to Ms. Kristin. I’ll missed my lessons, though. I was was learning so much…