Of Dance

Micaiah loves to dance.  I, too, am a fan of dance.  As discussed previously, throw in some quality oldies and a tutu for the little one and you've got a grand combination.

So, today, when I overheard (yes, I weasel my way into conversations quite regularly; don't judge me) a friend discussing what type of shoes to wear to dance class this evening, my ears perked up - and I chimed in, "For what?".  It just so happens they were discussing a "Mommy and Me" dance class.  How cute is that?

After some convincing on the part of the studio owner (ok, let's be honest, there was almost no convincing necessary other than the confirmation that Emmett would be just fine sitting his plump self in his car seat and observing children slightly older than himself as they bounced, jumped, twirled and spun around the lime green room), I decided we'd give it a shot - just a toe dipped in the pool before we decided if we were ready to soak ourselves in dance expenses.

Having pumped her up, I got to hear on the entire ride to the studio, located in the mall, "I want dance!"  We were both a little stoked.

And the class was everything it promised to be.  Pint-sized faux ballerinas hopped (or were caused to hop by the Mommies), clapped, and boogied to the melody of tunes straight from The Backyardigans and other child-friendly play-lists.  Micaiah loved it.  That girl was born to shake.

Sadly, while the best things in life are supposedly free, this does not include dance lessons and while we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, I'm just not sure we're prepared to make a financial commitment to achieve the same goal accomplished by tuning in to Pandora, breaking out the tutu and shaking it down with my girl here in our own living room for a half hour a week.  True, there's a recital (a recital!), but I guess we'll just have to wait until she's older for performances involving leotards, hair sparkles and obscene amounts of video cameras.

I'm only glad she's too young to be devastated by the knowledge that what could have been a recurring event was cut short by the frugality of her mother.  We'll just keep that between us, shall we?