tondu twirling and skate diving

We may have overscheduled her a bit, but I'm okay with it. Caroline is continuing with hockey (at least for a couple sessions) and chose a ballet/tap combination class as her other activity. Grace and Grit.

She is not always pleased when I open the door to her after school program with her dance bag in hand. In fact, I don't think there has been a single week since September that she has skipped over to me, grabbed the bag from my hand and let out a happy yell. Far from it. I'm not phased by this, not in the least. She is the queen of challenging transitions. There is much whining, sometimes some tears, and eventually she sits on the little bench outside the dance studio with six other adorable ballerinas and waits patiently to be called in by Miss Katie. Parents don't observe these classes, so it's all been a mystery, until today.

Caroline wasn't looking forward to "peak week." We had a good cry over it last week. She didn't like the idea of people watching her. I assured her that the other parents were there to watch their own children, that Mommy and maybe Kiki and MAYBE DADDY would be there just for her. She didn't bat an eye when I mentioned it en route this afternoon. She handled the barre like a pro, but fell apart once they got to the center. We'll work on it. Miss Katie assured me that this was not how it usually goes and that she is shy, but nothing like the scared to participate girl we saw towards the end of the hour. She was unphased by that pesky bar on the floor. She watched and listened and followed and looked so darn sweet.

In comparison, this girl is lightening on ice. Check her out there on the far end of the ice passing up her fellow tiny skaters.

Hockey was a hard sell. We first approached it in a "you decide" kind of way and she immediately, without hesitation declared, "NO!" I took a deep breath. I actually let it go for a day or two and then I sat her down to have a heart to heart. We talked about how she doesn't ever like to get ready to go, that it interrupts her weekend morning play'tastrophe with Con. I asked her if she could remember last year when she was four, how she barely could get across the ice. I asked her if she remembered that in the beginning she cried to get off the ice and then later cried because it was taking too long to get her ready to go on. I asked her to trust that Mommy and Daddy would make good decisions for her and that this was just one of those decisions she needed to hand over to us. We talked about moving up to group two with the rest of the kids who could skate without help, to see what it was like. She raced up and down the ice that first session, racing others to the end line. This past weekend she winded through cones and dove under sticks held up on cones with gusto and fearlessness. She got a number three on her helmet.

Our girl. Half sweet arabesqueing ballerina, half fearless speed skater. I think she is pretty near perfect.


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