Big Girl Ballet

Samara started dance class last week.  The class is called "baby ballet" but don't let her hear you refer to it as that.  "It's big girl ballet!"   The photos are from week two and sadly the teacher wouldn't let me come in to photograph.  So, these were taken through the tiny viewing window and some are just reflections from the mirror.  It was semi-torturous not being able to go in to get the shots I wanted.  Hopefully, they'll have a recital or parents' day or I can find a way to bribe the teacher.  I am not being cheeky, but I truly wonder will delicious cookies do the trick?

I got all teary-eyed watching her the first week.  She seemed so grown up.  Not long ago we couldn't even get her to go to nursery class.  The first week she kissed me goodbye and went and sat in her place.  She listened very intently and tried to follow everything.  It breaks my heart how fast she is growing up. 

Honestly, how completely adorable are all these little girls?!?  I am pretty sure Samara is the youngest in the class as she is definitely the shortest.  The highlight is when the teacher tries to have them hop on one-leg.  Only one girl can do it and they all fall and crash into each other and the wall.  It is adorably hilarious.  Samara didn't even try this week.  She just walked back and forth.  She told me after class, "Ya, mom.  You know the dance teacher?  She told us to hop on one leg but I just walked.  Why did I?"

After week one, the teacher told me Samara listened and followed instructions very well and that she was quiet.  Quiet?!?  She must have really been concentrating.  No one has ever accused her of being quiet.  I constantly get comments about what a chatterbox she is.  In fact, the taxi driver today asked me four times more than once if she always talked that much, ever stopped talking, etc.  As we were nearing the condo,  he looked at the trip calculator to see the exact time we started the trip and said, "She's been talking for 18 minutes straight.  It will be 20 minutes by the time we stop."  Thanks, Uncle.  You're no mute yourself.