You would think that since Alexis is only 6-years old I would remember exactly when she started dance class. I really don't have a clue, though. See that? THAT is why I have to blog. I can't be trusted to remember something simple. I need The Googles to be able to help me out with this stuff.
(The Googles says she started dancing when she was three. Thank you, The Googles!)
Looking back, it's really hard to believe that the entire reason I enrolled Alexis in dance was that I wanted her to work on the whole Shy Thing. She was painfully shy as a toddler and I REALLY needed her to crawl her way out of my butt for an hour per week.
What a difference three years can make.
Alexis is now the kid who goes running off into a crowd of her peers and completely forgets to stop for a second and say goodbye to me. She gives presentations in front of her kindergarten class without hesitation. She will walk up to a stranger and ask for help. It's a really beautiful thing.
As I sat in a dimly lit auditorium this evening watching Alexis' dance rehearsal (her recital is next week), lots of moments from the past three years passed through my mind. I thought about all of the times I stood inside a dance studio with a tiny Alexis clinging to my leg as tears streamed down her face. She was too scared to leave my side and join her class. I thought about her first "recital," which was really nothing more than a regular class, except that parents were allowed in the room. I thought about the parents who have annoyed me, the teacher who failed Alexis, the other parents who annoyed me, and most of all, I thought about how very far she has come.
There was a time when I didn't think Alexis was a very good dancer. I would like to publicly and loudly declare myself wrong about that. While watching the rehearsal tonight, it became clear that Alexis knows every step in all three of her routines. Every. Single. Step. She doesn't need to look off stage to get hints from her teachers. Instead, she looks straight ahead into the audience with a huge smile on her face as she executes those steps perfectly.
You guys, I have two very uncoordinated left feet. It's amazing that I wasn't kicked out of Marching Band in high school because rhythm? My feet don't have that. If I were to try to do a ball-chain-hop-step thingy-ma-bobber, I'd fall flat on my butt, as if I had been hit in the head with a ball and chain.
I do not know where this child who can dance came from, but I'm crazy proud of her.
