First Day

We rushed into the building carrying Ella through snow; sat down, whipped pink cowboy boots off and crammed feet into slippers. We barely had time to tell her to ‘break a leg’ before she was standing on the yellow line waiting for the teacher to ask her name. I fretted she would run behind my leg and hold on tight like a starfish in a tutu. She was last in line so the young lady leaned down and said “You must be Ella.” She replied “I sure am!” and ran whole heartedly into the studio. Dan and I along with the rest of the 30 something parents stared at the girls biting our lips and hoping our girls would listen well and dance a miracle. Turns out little girls adore ballet teachers and obey every command as if she were the Queen. She coaxed them into first position, charmed them to bend their knees and enticed them to skip and jump. The mamarazzi standing in the hallway went wild with flash-less photos while comparing cameras. Soon the girls were returned to us in the tiny hallway where we returned the pink cowboy boots and pulled a sweatshirt over a smiling face.