Niamh announced last night, “Mama, I think I want to be a Professional Dancer when I grow up.”
Oh, Goodness. How do I break it to her? I was the only cheerleader that couldn’t do the splits and her Auntie Mairead needed us to count 8 counts out loud when she was a young aspiring dancer because she couldn’t hear the intrinsic beat of the music. And, there was my dance class in Ecuador. Genetics are not on her side, and I’m not even considering how the Westover side of the family affects her. (I don’t want to offend them.)
We’ve gone this route once before. Niamh was in ballet 2 years ago and complained each week as we drove to class. “I don’t want to go to ballet. All that stretching!”
I didn’t want to discourage her so I told her it might be a good idea to practice stretching every day to limber up a bit.
*PS. I promise to learn how to use my camera soon.