As this blog begins year six, Eleanor began ballet class. You couldn’t convince her she isn’t already a ballerina, but now we have the shoes and leotard to go with the attitude. That was a story in itself. I found out around 10 am Friday morning that we were, in fact, registered for the class. I raced out at lunch time to find the necessary gear. In what can only be described as a miracle, the closest shop had everything we needed. We erred on the side of caution and bought two pairs of shoes but the ones that are too large can be returned.

I’m not sure Miss Kelly, the delightful instructor, was ready for Eleanor’s non-stop commentary but she took it in stride. Eleanor’s enthusiasm made up for not knowing first position. Ellie is at a bit of a disadvantage. Her mum was never interested in dance and definitely does not know the secret handshake or any of the French words required. We’re going to have to learn those together. (Except that after the first class, we’re not expected to stay and watch. There’s really no place to do that, and I know Eleanor will do better if she’s not looking to me every few minutes. I’ll go sip coffee for 45 minutes, and wish I had a strategically located webcam in the studio.)

We didn’t know any of the other seven adorable little girls in the class, and the experienced moms and dads left promptly so there wasn’t much bonding going on, but Eleanor loved it and can’t wait for next week.