On Thursday morning I took my daughter River to see the Nutcracker ballet. I’ve been dreaming of bringing her to the ballet since she was born, and when I found out last Monday that we could buy cheap tickets as homeschoolers and attend the matinee performance for students, I was thrilled. We spent the whole week folding laundry and loading the dishwasher on our tippytoes, twirling in time to the Waltz of the Flowers and other Nutcracker favorites. I may have actually been more excited than my daughter.

River is the same age that I was when I started ballet classes. Even though I was only four, I remember a lot about them. I remember being one of the smallest girls in the class – I was probably one of the youngest too. I remember the first time I put on my leotard, and how I was secretly disappointed that it was burgundy and didn’t come with a tutu. I remember taking tiny steps on my tip toes with my arms high over my head as I ran around the studio lined with mirrors. I remember performing in the end-of-year recital, and I even remember being appalled at how much make up I had to wear. Believe it or not, I still remember most of the words to the song that we danced to.

I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t very good. I know that I was the only one in the class that couldn’t touch my toes. When I was moved to the “special” class for my second year, I truly believed it was because I was special. It took my about 15 years to realize I was likely held back to join a class of younger dancers. 😛

Given the impression that ballet classes left on me, you know that deep down I was hoping she would turn to me after the performance and say, “mama, sign me up for dance class right now; I can’t wait one moment more.” I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already looked up ballet classes online – just in case. At the same studio I went to, of course.

Despite my secret hopes that she’d fall madly in love with the dancing, I was pretty realistic about the show. My daughter just turned four, so I was aiming to stay for about 45 minutes. But she surprised me by sitting on my lap happily for the entire two hour performance. She clapped with delight after each dance and commented often on the wonderful costumes. She even whispered about how beautiful the men’s tights were, although she told me that she suspected they may have put on women’s pants by accident. Apparently River is not equal opportunity when it comes to sequins. To be honest, I’m just thankful that she didn’t loudly point out that she could see, well, everything, given how tight those pants were.

River had a great time, but she didn’t ask about taking dance classes that day. I didn’t bring it up until the next morning, when I asked if she’d enjoy taking a dance class after Christmas – I’m looking for activities that she can do with other children her age and “creative movement” seems to be a popular one. She seemed to like the idea, so we’ll see how it goes. I’m also hoping to find an arts and crafts program or a drama program for her too. I’d be thrilled if she finds something that she likes, as it may give her an outlet for all of her passion.

There is a part of me that hopes she loves ballet class as much as I did, though, so that I can relive those moments of my childhood – buying the first leotard, trying on ballet shoes, worrying about too much makeup (although I’m sure River would ask for more). Or maybe she’ll find another interest instead – that will be okay too. Our role as parents is to support our children as they become themselves through their own journey, not forcing them to make the same choices we did. That being said, I may just have to buy her a tutu for Christmas. You know, just in case. 😉