Ballerina Moms

Taking Bear to ballet classes has immersed me into a whole different culture that resides within the confines of dance studio lobbies. I feel like an alien in a strange land of pink tutus and shiny tap shoes, where the most common greeting is, "so which one is yours?" as the well-groomed parents look through the plexi-glass windows pointing at their pint-size progeny. It's where they talk about which ballet teacher is the best at teaching technique to three year olds and compare which child seems to have the most elaborate hair-do. They share about the other extracurricular activities their children participate in (hip hop, gymnastics, soccer, voice lessons, piano, drawing etc.) and then discuss the ramifications of what would have happened if they didn't make it into "this class.". Their cell phones are abuzz confirming play dates and they rapidly discuss with each other which children's museum has the best technologically interactive display to engage their budding geniuses.

Having little grasp of words such as "Nanny" or "Spare Moment", I stand off to the side and quietly wait (er...run after the elusive and quick to wander Chipmunk) while the other ballerina moms "ooh" and "aah" at their children stumbling through grand jeté and échappé sauté. Then as the clock strikes 10:40, we rush in to change our dear daughter's shoes so another 20 minutes of shuffle hops and taps can proceed. And the moms watch with stars in their eyes imagining futures of standing ovations and encores, delighted at their child's interest in art and culture.

Then the teacher dismisses and all the girls run out of the dance room prim and proper, hairstyles intact, with beaming smiles on their faces. Their mothers pick up their brand name tote bags and receive them with open arms and bottles of water and ask them how their ballet class went while escorting them towards their minivans headed for the next enlightening destination.

Meanwhile, Bear runs out of the studio, with her ponytail falling out, secondhand leotard, a ruffled Sonja in one arm and a freshly printed ladybug stamp on the other and proudly announces, "I love ballet class!" I in turn respond, "I'm glad you had a good time."