Twirl Girl

Erin walks into her first dance class. She joins the little girls who are all lined up in their beautiful girly leotards and floaty skirts. I am cracking up as I peer through the narrow window on the door because Erin is wearing a pair of hand-me-down camo shorts with a ratty gray t-shirt. (She has decided that gray is "her" color.) I cackle "That's our girl!" and head on down the hallway to wait for the lesson to run its course pleased because my kid is apparently immune to social pressures. After all, we do say that she "marches not only to the beat of her own drummer but has done away with the drummer entirely in favor of a marimba or piano."
An hour later, I watch through the same window as the class finishes up with the girls taking turns running across the room to practice their "leaps". One or two of them actually makes a leap, too. I observe their body language and expressions. The herd of girlies are striking in their confidence, beauty, and the expectation that they are "doing it" as they attempt to stretch out their front legs to smoothly follow through the motion with the back leg following. Every one of those lovely little girls exudes sheer joy. They are so clearly lovely in their leaping and their cute little twinkie ballet costumes... or camo shorts. (Whatever.)
After class Erin and I stand around chatting with another mommy who has two cute little girls in class (wearing matching cute white ballet costumes) and a precious toddler cruising around on her sturdy baby legs. The girls are all still leaping and twirling. As Erin and I get into the car to head for home, she asks about the other girls outfits. She wants a floatie, twinkie, dancing outfit in... gray. And this morning she returns to add her hope that I can also procure her a pair of "dancing shoes". *sigh* I probably should've seen it coming.