A friend’s blog post prompted me to relay this on-going story about Stella. About six months ago, Stella came home from school and said to me “I’m a dancer, Momma.” Ok, Stella, yes, you are. Around the same time, my mom had sent some pajamas with a little ballerina applique on them. They now, of course, are her favorite pajamas, with the monkey ones coming a close second. “I’m a dancer” she likes to say randomly through the day, twirling and spinning and, if prompted by the appropriate music, lots of hip shaking and boogie-ing.
I’m not sure when one enrolls a child in dance classes (??) although by some friends’ stories, it seems that 3-4 seems to be the time that kids start to do these things. But I have been encouraging her to express herself through movement as much as she wants – either with music, or without. The local ballet company was doing a small showcase of their upcoming production in the local libraries last week, and after seeing that, Stella has increased the “I’m a dancer” rhetoric tenfold. She sweeps through the house, moving her arms purposefully and gracefully, and asks occasionally for me to pick her up “like the daddy dancer did to the mommy” at the “li-bar-bee.”
Yesterday morning, she almost made me spit out my tea, however. Trying to say quiet so Daddy could sleep in a bit, we headed to her room after the usual routine of cream cheese on toast to take off her pajamas and overnight diaper (oh when oh when will we be done with these??) Once in the nude, she began dancing through the bedroom, staring at herself occasionally in the small mirror I put up on her wall (for all those silly faces she likes making). “I’m a dancer, Mommy.” Yes, Stella, I really like the way you are moving so slowly, but shouldn’t we put on some underwear?
“I’m a naked dancer.”
Cue tea through nose.
1 comment:
too cute!
Post a Comment