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Despite the chaos of the world in general appearing to fall apart around us, I am finding happiness in the little things.  Not to be repetitive, but the ballet class is truly the best thing that could have happened to us.

I have a total “I wish I was like that” crush on the ballerina who teaches the class.  She’s so imaginative with the kids, and to say she is graceful is a gross understatement.  Today, she passed out laminated paper keys and danced around the room with us.  We all reached up high to try to open the illusionary tall door, crouched low to try and open the pretend little door, and finally we succeeded in opening the unseen middle sized door.  I think I may or may not be losing my mind, but the music, the imagination, the flying around the room on my tip-toes pretending to be a bird - what adults get to do that?

I think the beauty of ballet might be celebrating the capability of the body to arch.  I have no idea what I’m talking about, but that is what it looks and feels like to me.

I think it’s partly because there are just women in the class that I feel so free to dance around trying to mimic the graceful ballerina with my clumsy limbs or maybe I have stopped caring.  I’m not sure, but it’s a delight. 

Today, Buttercup and I pretended to be a bird, a frog, a butterfly, and we learned to do plies.  Motherhood is the most beautiful excuse for learning to pretend again.

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