Today was The Princess’s first dance class. We were prepared well ahead of time – last night, I got her tights and leotard out and lay them flat on the floor ready for her to wear this morning. I put her tap shoes and ballet slippers in a small backpack in the van, so we wouldn’t forget them. Class started at 9:30, and by 8:15, The Princess was asking me if it was time to go yet (it’s a ten minute drive, max — I had to tell her to hold her horses).
When we finally arrived, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of mothers and children – the waiting room was packed and there were dancers and their younger siblings everywhere. I sent her off to the studio and waited for the next 55 minutes next to a woman I went to high school with (Note: She had changed SO MUCH that she had to tell me her maiden name — she used to be one of those girls who weighed about 80 pounds soaking wet… Ahem. Not anymore).
The Princess came out after class somewhat deflated. It seems they spent much of the almost-hour talking about the rules. “That was boooooooooring.” I tried to assure her that next week, now that the talk of rules is out of the way, they will likely spend more time on dance.
I guess we’re both hoping for something different next week. Next week, I plan to take Pumpkin to Starbucks instead of sitting in that cramped waiting room with all those other moms. I think a grande cappuccino can ease the pain of sitting around with nothing to do.
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