One of the best things about having little girls is getting to watch preschool ballet classes. A sea of pink tulle and mostly Elaine Benes-esque moves make for a very entertaining half hour. They are darn cute. Next year, Sadie will be old enough for regular classes, the kind where parents (yes, dads too) don't participate, don't assist with the donning of costume tiaras and butterfly wings, don't stand off to the side, shutters snapping. I'll be dropping her off and returning an hour later to pick her up and hoping that she'll tell me a bit about it. Next will come kindergarten. Then sleepovers. Then trips to Europe. Then jobs in different cities.
When I stop bunny hopping briefly to pick up my camera and take a photo of my budding ballerina, she says: "No, Mama, you're suppos' a do it with me."
I'll take it while I can get it.