That's a Wrap!

Miniature tap shoes clickity-clack across the stage as a collaborative "awwwe" drifts from the audience.

I am a room mom, so I don't have a seat.  Instead, I'm standing backstage so I can see the dance before taking the girls back to their room.

The audience is giggling slightly as the tiniest performers look for their marks.  They are adorable in their sequence leotards, pony tails and poodle skirts.  It's impossible for them not to steal the show.

I am only about twenty feet from Ainsley.  I watch as she misses her mark and practically stands on top of the girl next to her.  She never misses her mark.  She knows that she's always number 18.

The music begins, and from the rafters we hear Shirley Temple belt out "When I Grow Up!"

Ainsley looks my way.  Oh no...

She cups her hands around her mouth and yells "Mommy?!"

I motion for her to look at the audience.

"No!  Mommy?"

"Ainsley, please look at the audience." I say more to myself than to her, I doubt she can hear me.

"But Mommy, I have to tell you something."

The first verse is almost over and so far she has just stood facing left, yelling off stage.

"When are we gonna do the finale?"

"At the end.  Do your dance!" I say loud enough for her to hear me.

"Ohh...okay," she grins.

The song continues I want to be a dancer...


Ainsley twirls right, while the rest of the girls twirl left.  She also twirls twice, while the others twirl only once.  She steps right in and catches up with the rest of the girls.

At first I am sorry that she didn't quite get it.  It was her one chance. The backstage crew around me are laughing and congratulating me on how cute she is.

As the song comes to an end and the little girls blow their kisses to the audience, I step out to wait for them.

They are excited and eager to get back to the room and see their parents.

Ainsley rushes over to me as I lead them all back.

"Mommy, did you see me?"  She is beaming.

"Yes, I saw you.  You were amazing."  And I mean it.  Most likely she will never perform such an impromptu side act again.  Next year, when she dances in this production, she'll be almost 5.  Next year, she'll understand that the finale comes at the end.  Next year, she'll know the routine better.  Next year, we won't have such a unique memory.  So I'm no longer sorry, now I'm thankful that I get to relive that moment over and over again.

"Can we do the finale now?" she asks.

"Not yet, but soon.  Can you show it to me?"

She stands and brings her arms over her head slowly.  Then they come down and clap in front of her.

Next she throws her left hand down and yells "Bandichuck, oh yeah." Then her right hand goes down and she yells again "Bandichuck, oh yeah."

Bandichuck, oh yeah.  What? You've never heard that song!  Oh, I forgot to tell you, the performance was of Grease.  Bandichuck, you know that song at the end...oh but you may know it as the Hand Jive...

Born to hand jive...Bandichuck...

You see the connection, don't you?

Tiny Dancers

We are late.

I so didn't want to be late.

I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.

She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there.  Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.

We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.

I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.

We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio.  I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants.  She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.

I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window.  I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures.  So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.

At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor.  From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.

Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines.  Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back.  As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.

Fear.

Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt.  And that breaks my heart.  What if she's not good enough?  What if she can't keep up?  What if she's embarrassed?  She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights.  Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid.  She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure.  Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon.  But my fear is more about what lies ahead.  School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at.  I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.

She is not following along with the teacher at all.  She forgets to put her hands on her hips.  She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing.  But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told.  She always listens - to other people, that is.

The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.

As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.

Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!!  I am a drate (great) dancer!