...and first substantial pony tails!
I am completely shocked by how adorable I find this whole scene.
The Beverly Hills Rec ballet classes are sort of kiddy-pageant-creepy, with all the girls in sparkly outfits, practically in baby boot camp for anorexia. Zaza has been begging for lessons, but I wanted to find a fun class that was more about the dancing than the clothing -- perhaps with a large Russian woman all in black or a Debbie-Allen-in-Fame-type drumming the floor with her wooden staff in time with the music...
So I was (maybe a bit too) thrilled to find a class that Zaza could take with her (boy) friend Griffin in Silverlake. It's cheap, racially diverse, and the kids show up with messy hair and dirty faces in whatever crazy tights and grungey t-shirts they've pulled on -- ready to dance. (I promise, I did let her pick out pink ballet clothes too, but interestingly she's more focused and less into her 'costume' when she wears her black novice ballerina gear...) The teacher is no Debbie Allen, but she's refreshingly no-nonsense, blessedly far from anorexic, and wears silver tap shoes with her black leotards.
So I sit there on my folding chair, with the afternoon light pouring in, and I smile sappily until my face hurts.
After two lessons (she wore pink for her second lesson) Zaza has thrown out her plans to grow up and be "Dr. Sadie" (her dentist), and wants to be a ballerina.
We shall be giving the Barbie aisle at Target an even wider berth than we normally do.