She Points Her Pretty Toes

Every Saturday (or some Saturdays, if we're being honest), Gigi  finds her spot on the floor of the general purpose room at the Parks Department. She waves her hands in the air and counts one, two, three, four, five. And, she waits patiently while every little ballerina tells the teacher her favorite color. Spoiler alert: it's pink. Or purple.

Fifteen minutes later, Gigi finally gets to point her pretty toes. She loves to spin. She loves to tap. She loves to stretch, bend, twirl, and curtsey. The little girl who has made tooting a dinner sport is completely in love with dance.

It's the shoes mostly. She does love an excuse for extra shoes.

We pay a pretty penny for her to point her pretty toes. But, at the end of the lessons comes the big reward--for parents and performers alike--The Recital. Twenty-five minutes of on-stage excitement.  "G," I told her as I fixed her hair, "I hope you dance. I'd hate to go through this just to see you stand still on stage."

Mark Sanders and Tia Sillers wrote it better than I ever could, "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder…And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance."

She danced.

The butterflies in her tummy nearly stole her thunder, but "they all flew away and turned to excitement." And she danced. It was worth every pretty penny.