I raised boys. Two of them, although at times it felt like twenty. The house was always a whirlwind of toys and noise and half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches smeared on the upholstery.
So when Son-One grew up and started dating a beautiful young woman who had a beautiful 10-month old daughter, I felt we'd both hit the jackpot. Him for falling in love and me for finally getting the chance to experience life with A LITTLE GIRL!!!
It has been fabulous. She's three now. She loves to jump, run, play hide-and-seek, sing songs, and color. She sets out dishes for tea parties and takes tender good care of her "babies". She builds amazing towers with blocks, writes her name, counts to 20, and remembers EVERYTHING!
She also dances. There's the usual "Ring Around the Rosie", and spontaneous "dance parties" in the living room when a song with a good beat comes on the stereo. But now, well, she has advanced beyond all that.
Being social and smart and obviously uniquely talented, her parents decided to sign her up for a beginning ballet class through the park district. Problem, it starts at 5:00 -- just a smidge too early for them to get her there on time after they get off work. Ivy to the rescue! "I'll take her!" I declared, hardly able to contain my pleasure at the prospect. I assumed all was ready last week, for her first class.
Then I got a text mid-day...."We just realized she needs a leotard, tights, and ballet slippers...do you think you could pick those up and we'll pay you back?"
What sort of language was this? Leotard? Slippers? Tights? That sounds nothing at all like cleats, balls, and batting gloves! Where does one even start to shop for this stuff???? I had a moment of panic before coming to my senses and signing onto Facebook. Soon I had a string of comments from moms of girls telling me where to go and what to buy. Easy, breezy.
Angel and I had a terrific shopping expedition. She was happy to try things on, but not as thrilled with the simple black leotard as she was with pointing to a multitude of bright, sparkly tutus she wanted as well. ("Another time, sweetie....maybe next time....").
At class, she was shy at first. And why not? She and another little girl were the only "new girls" -- the other six girls had already been together for one previous session. But brilliant child and phenomenal dancer that she is, she soon joined in and was the star of the class! Yes, indeed, she pirouetted and plie'ed, and grand jete'ed with abandon. Perhaps she was a bit eager to "beat" the other girls across the room -- we will discuss the non-racing aspects of ballet with her. And we will suggest that going potty half-way through the 45 minute class (with the requisite completely disrobing to do so) is maybe not the best use of her time or her parents' money...but it seemed to be a trend with about half the girls, so maybe she just didn't want to feel left out.
As for me, I didn't cry, which is my usual response to uncontrollable waves of joy and delight. I just watched her with a smile full of pride and a heart full of gratitude for this little Angel in my life. And when her parents arrived, my heart swelled even more to see the love and pride they took in watching their little girl take first steps into a new, bigger world.
Just like when I watched Angel's daddy take his first swing at a ball on a tee. OK. Now I'm crying....and it feels so good.
At least, that's the view from here....©
FROM AN EMAIL: I cried just reading about your son and T ball - reminded of course, of my son and grandsons doing the same.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reminding me again about my life and yours!