Saturday, February 03, 2007

Dirty Little Secret #47

While watching my daughter dance, I nearly wept with joy.

I struggled with the issue of wanting to give her the opportunity to try out a traditionally girly activity and wanting to eschew the subculture that comes with it. Luckily, the yellow pages yielded The Little Gym. I'm not one to plug a product (unless it's Hob Nobs), but this place is philosophically right up my alley. The recital took place in her classroom, they were allowed to choose their own costume from their dress-up boxes at home, and there was not a single speck of make-up involved.

And she was just so happy. Happy to show off her new skills. Happy to have us watching her. Happy to be dancing. It made me immeasurably happy to see her shine with such confidence.

Of course, now she has a new answer when asked the all-important question with which adults see fit to pester every five-year-old on the planet, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"A dancer."

I cringe. We'll just have to keep working on it until she answers, "A Nobel Prize winning dancer-biologist-economist-peace-maker who stays home with her kids."

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