Her Turn

I have toted Molly with me to Emily's activities since she was born.  

She has patiently watched through the window as Emily learned to swim.  

She has sat outside the door, only able to hear the music, as Emily learned to dance.  

She has carried her own tiny backpack on her back as we walked Emily into preschool, hoping she might get a chance to sit at the table with her big sister.  

She has watched from my lap, clapping her hands, as Emily learned to turn cartwheels.

And she has danced in the aisles of the recital hall as Emily danced on the lighted stage. 

For two years, she has watched and waited.

Waited for it to be her turn.

Her turn to start an activity.

And last week, that moment finally came for her.

It was her turn.  

Her moment to shine.

It was her turn to start dance class.

To make this momentous occasion a little more special, I treated her to a brand new leotard and tutu.  She has lots of hand me down dance outfits.  Her previously loved ballet and tap shoes bear the sticker markings from her sister's early lessons.  She carries Emily's old dance bag.... the one with the frog who has a broken ballet slipper.  She is in her big sister's dance shadow.  

And so I wanted her to have something special of her own on the day that it was finally her turn.

She was so proud to have her own tutu.  She immediately put it on and insisted on sleeping in it during her nap.

She patiently waited until 5:45 pm to go to her class even though she had been waiting for this moment for the past two years.

Waiting for it to be her turn.

When she awoke from her nap, she came trotting into my bedroom with her dance bag draped over her shoulder.  She was ready to go.

Ready for it to be her turn.

And so off we went.

When we first arrived, she became shy.  Not sure how to react now that it was her turn, she bowed her head and even started to momentarily cry when she feared I might leave.

It only took a second for her to adjust and she eagerly sat her cute little tutu down in the circle of mini ballerinas.

It was almost her turn.

And then it happened.

The teacher turned on the music.  

And little sister lost all inhibition.  

It was finally her turn.

Her turn to dance!

 She danced.  She smiled.  She sang.

And then she danced some more.

For 30 minutes, my baby ballerina had her turn in the spotlight.

And when the music was turned off, she stuck out her hand to get a stamp and then happily ran to the door.

Her turn had finally happened.

It is one of those "mama moments" that I want to etch into my memory for all of eternity.  Her tiny tutu.  Her tights that were too big.  Her little haircut that bounced up and down as she did.  Her smile.  The way she waved her hands in the air.  Her sing songy voice.  Her attention to her teacher as she looked for her "white square".  Her bright and excited eyes.  Her rhythm.  Her pride.  Her moment in the spotlight. 

Her Turn.