Tiny dancer (Or bench warmer. Whatever.)

Three years ago when the sonogram was administered and we were notified that I was, in fact, going to pay for my raisin' by getting a daughter, this was the exact mental picture I had...pigtails and a leotard. 

Actually, she is so much more than I ever expected. She is fiery and strong willed with just enough of her daddy in her to make her sweet and funny.  

The excitement that she showed when I picked her up at daycare quickly waned when we walked into the ballet room for her first class. She latched onto to me with a fierceness that caused circulation to my brain to be cut off. After that point, very little ballet took place. She became more of the bench warmer.

I slowly got her onto the floor and at every opportunity I saw, I would back away a little. About 30 minutes into the class she was far enough away that I could actually make a picture without part of my body being in it.

Then she realized I was gone and she came running back to me, so I started inching away all over again.

And with about 5 minutes left in class, she let Allison take her over to all of the action.

 AND THEN...there was this moment.

She smiled. It gave me the tiniest speck of hope that she might actually buy into this dance/ballet/tumbling thing after all.  

She really came to life when they gave out a color sheet and crayons.

Clay is playing jr high football this year, which delights my soul. I had already told her before dance that we would be going to the ball game after dance was over. Throughout the whole class she kept whispering in my ear, "I weady to go to da football game." I believe Adam's exact words were, "That's my girl. More worried about football than dance." 

And in other news (that will not surprise my husband)- I have lost my ever loving mind. Last week it took me over 5 minutes to think of my school email address. This is my 3rd year with that same email, but I couldn't, for the life of me, remember it. The first day of school I packed my little lunch box at the bright and early hour of 6 AM. The closer to lunch it got, the more excited I got about that banana sandwich that was waiting on me. (Yeah, yeah I know. Chubby was hungry.) It was a devastating reality when I sat down at the lunch table and realized I had left the banana at home. At this point I am so afraid that I am going to leave my daughter somewhere.    

P.S. I received the news yesterday afternoon that the virus has made its way to daycare. The first throw up outbreak is ALWAYS right around her birthday. Please join me in prayer that if we must get it, we get it soon and get it over with. There's a blow up water slide coming to our house next Saturday that I'd hate to see go to waste due to the virus.