For several months, a hard core dance hype has been brewing. Even before she knew dance classes existed, she’s been strapping on her ‘dancin’ shoes’ and busting moves all over the place. When we introduced her to old dance recital tapes from my glory days as a 5-year-old, she watched them enough to remember the footwork and sing the songs. She shrieked with delight in anticipation of meeting her new dance teacher and tumbling with other kids, and she attempted to sleep in her leotard the night before her first class… but unsurprisingly to me, she still managed to go to pieces when I dropped her off. Getting her to cross the threshold into the building was challenge enough, but loosening her grip on me when it came time for class to begin was like opening a pickle jar with one hand. There were tears and a lot of pouting but I’m so proud of her for joining the other kids. After class she told me that she wanted to come back next week, but also that she was going to cry again. Go figure. It scared her to death but she loved it at the same time. Next week she’ll be 3 so maybe she won’t cry after all….