Lucy had her first ballet class tonight. I dragged the entire family to her debut as a ballerina. As expected, she was the tallest in her class. I wish she was in a sport where her height would be an advantage. But momma's trying out therapeutic baby steps of not being so controlling and so, Lucy picked ballet. Still, I think her extensions and plies and all that are gonna be beautiful with all that height anyways.
I'm a little concerned I'm a bad dance mom. What!? Shocking, I know. I watched endless girls walk around with what THEY call booty shorts. I call them underwear. And they call them dance tops, I call them bikini tops. Most of the girls were older, wearing make up.
Until three of these older girls came up to a girl in Lucy's seven-year-old class and said to the poor girl, seriously y'all, right out of Heathers:
"Oh mah gaw Julie, you're go to this dance studio? I totally didn't know that. You're in this regular class? WE are in the COMPANY." The COMPANY is the select sport version of dance, I guess.
It turns out the booty-pants-wearing-Heathers were in Julie's school class. Which means the booty-pants-bikini-top-and-make-up-wearing Heathers were also seven-years-old. Gross.
Another girl walked by with her booty pants pulled up a little too high, making a giant beginning to booty thongs. Eww. I don't think I can take it.
Then I met some of the moms. You know, the really excited and exciteable ones right out of the gate. And they were nice enough. Actually I know one of them, and she rocks. I'm so glad I get to see her once a week.
However, there was this one. She was tall and chatty. The nerve of this woman to be tall and chatty. And her daughter is so tall, that she puts her up in age groups so she's not a head taller than everyone else, because that is so embarassing. Her daughter is five. FIVE-years-old. I suppose it's okay, for now. But from one tall girl to another, about our tall daughters, eventually she's going to not be able to go up in age groups. She'll be a head taller than them as well. I'm just sayin.
The "tall" mom (I was her height back in junior high, but whatever) takes a breath, and asks me which one is my daughter. I couldn't resist,
"The one that's a head taller than everyone else."
That's how I roll.
