Dances with Wolves . . . in Pink

Today began a new chapter in the cultural life of our family.  Our two daughters, Amy and Lauryn, began dance lessons with a local studio.  Amy had taken ballet a couple of years ago, then tried some other activities, and decided recently that she wanted to get back into it (the fact that a friend dances with the same group may have something to do with the decision).

So, we called, got info, and as of 5:30, we found ourselves immersed in the world of ballet, jazz, tap, and hip hop.  Since I’m the only one driving right now (Melissa is recovering from a broken shoulder–‘nother story), I had the privilege of ushering a very pink 11-yr-old and her fly-girl 6-yr-old sister into an estrogen-rich world.  An hour later, a few bucks poorer (class fees, costume fees, list of required clothes and shoes), and we’re in.

I still don’t exactly know what Lauryn did in her class, just that she has apparently befriended the entire staff and several of her classmates.  Amy, on the other hand, is already mentioning sore abs, so it must have been a good workout.  While waiting, I got to listen to opinions on various subjects: snow days (we’ve had a lot lately), middle-school dating dramas, and the best place in town to buy training bras.  Looks like all of us are in for an education.

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