Tap Shoes

Once upon a time,

I took tap dance lessons.

 I was about four or five at the time.

I loved how girly dance was and thought it was really fun, except that the little girl in front of me would always accidentally kick my shins when kicking backwards.  I still remember that I was too shy to say anything about it.

 It was a combination tap and ballet class, with one following the other.

One day, when I came out to the room where all the moms waited, I said, "My feet are killing me!" and all the mothers laughed.  Now, of course, I know they were laughing at how cute it was to see a little girl using a grown-up expression, but at the time, I thought they were laughing at me.  It made me feel profoundly embarrassed and conspicuous, and I told my mom I wanted to quit dance classes.  I insisted, and she couldn't get the reason out of me.  I was too mortified to tell her.

So that was the end of dancing for me--at least until high school, when I rediscovered it enough to love show choirs.  And college would have been a lot less fun without swing dancing and Sing Alliance.

 

 I sincerely doubt that sort of shyness and mortification will ever be a problem for this girl, though.  She has a whole lot of spunk, this one.

(By the way, I don't know what I'm going to do when that pixie hair grows out.)

And she loved wearing my old tap shoes, which my mom found while going through some old boxes.

Here she's doing her flamingo, which they do in her ballet class.

I just had to document the cuteness.