Tiny Dancer...

I never envisioned a dance studio in my future.  I didn't anticipate the thrill of a tutu, or the absolute knock down adorability (awesome word) of little dance shoes and leg warmers.  I never once guessed that peeking behind a curtain could reveal anything more thrilling than the great and powerful Oz. As a boy perhaps my head couldn't comprehend it?



Just how cute could dance class possibly be I thought?  It's just dancing.  No it's not.  It's like a cuteness bomb exploded sending shrapnel off in a million directions to shred whatever hearts are within range.  Tutus and tights, and little dance shoes.  Pigtails and pony tails, and buns.  Frilly sh!t. It's amazing.

Zoey was invited to dance class by her friend, Ferah, and naturally jumped at the chance.  We were thinking about signing her up but then Ferah went and sealed the deal.  If you could bottle this kind of cuteness and sell it you'd be rich as hell.



It's paralyzing sometimes this notion of daughters.  There are two little girls in my home now, and one big one, and everything can lean on the side of the feminine on occasion and it's what I wanted. It's exactly the kind of foreign landscape that I was eager to squint through skewed lenses at.  Pink things and tears and ponies and best friends, and now dance class. It's brilliant.  No stinky equipment, no Snowy Saturday mornings in cold arenas.  No black eyes from best friends, just hugs and comforting arms around shoulders to say, "it'll be alright."  Girls in every direction I look and it's enlightening.



Day 4 - February 13, 2013

It might be the most feminine I've ever seen her.  You know, 100% little girl. Of course, there are no cameras allowed, and for some reason dance class is something that needs to be sequestered off in isolation, which is something I've never quite understood, but you could catch glimpses of the tiny dancers if you tried.  We tried. We most definitely tried, and then since you already have the camera with you, well...

Here is a link to the rest of the sneaky shots. Just don't tell the dance people or we'll be persona non grata, whatever that means.