Ever since September Juliet has been attending ballet on Monday mornings. We drop off James at school and then head over to the rec. center for ballet.
At first I thought there was no big deal with her being the youngest in class. She loved it. She listened well and enjoyed each class. When she stopped napping, however, she stopped enjoying class as much. Getting her there was a struggle ("I don't want to go! I worry about ballet class!") and I realized that her being the youngest was hard on her. Older kids understood more, could go faster, and do skills she won't master for a year or more.
I watched from outside the windows each class and smiled as she tried so hard to keep up with her much older classmates (many closer to James's age).
Today, the last day, parents were invited in, to see the class in action. She was seriously the cutest one in there, and tried so hard to do exactly as instructed. In hindsight I think she would have done better in this class closer to age four, but nevertheless, she was all smiles today.
Seeing her dance with her little friends was amazing. She knew all her positions, both arms and feet, and didn't cry when it was time to skip (her hardest skill).
I sat there in awe of my little girl. I smiled as she danced and hugged her after. I realized she's still little. She's too little for ballet right now, and that's ok. We will try again in a year, if she'd like.
Until then, I'll cherish her small-ness. I'm not sure who learned more, her, or me.
She dreaded the skipping portion of class. She tried so hard each week. Many weeks she was brought to tears because at two, she just wasn't yet able to skip. But each week she went back and tried again.
This cherub of mine, I am so proud of her. And so so in love.