Last week my firstborn ran head first into everything that was headed his way. It was an amazing week for me, really, just watching him. Since he is only four and a half, he didn't realize how his positivity affected me, but if it was something I could bottle our whole family could live out the rest of our lives without having to lift a finger.
On Wednesday the kids went to their first dance class. Sam has been asking to take dance lessons for a long while, most likely because we watch SYTYCD together and he lurves it. And Lulu has been begging for ballet classes ever since her pal Reagan started taking them last year. Signing them up for dance was near the top of my list when we moved. Now, I had no trouble finding Lucy a cute little leotard and skirt to wear to class, but I had a lot more trouble finding dance attire for my son here in West Virginia. That should have been a sign for me, but luckily I'm pretty stubborn and fairly plucky, so I just threw him into some of Lucy's leggings, topped it with a slightly small tee shirt and called it dancewear. He called them his handsome pants.
We walked through the door of the studio and my kids kicked off their shoes and bolted into the room. I was glad they were so speedy because that way they didn't have to hear the comments about boys not belonging in dance classes and what not. I got a lot of strange, mean looks in that lobby. The part that really killed me, though, was the five year old boy who lit up like a Christmas tree when Sam went into the class. He turned to his mother and said, 'I didn't know boys were allowed to take dance class!' expectantly. She just glared at me and said, 'They're not.' Her poor son sat there for the next hour all long faced, looking for any reason to go into the studio, only to be scolded.
And guess what? Sam and Lucy had an effing blast. Best 45 minutes of their week, so far!
Lucy doing "ballet"
But it only got better from there. On Sunday morning Sam started his instructional hockey league.
He was so, so excited. We got there nice and early to get suited up, and even though he couldn't get on the ice for almost 40 minutes the kid refused to take his skates off. He just walked around in them, talking about how awesome they were.
As soon as he got on the ice, though, his tune changed. At the very beginning things were chaos. There were at least thirty kids out there, a dozen or so who couldn't skate at all, and others who could only skate a little. There weren't nearly enough adults, and Sam panicked. But after a few minutes a girl from the youth team got him a chair-type thing and he perked right up.
Even though he fell down an awful lot he kept getting back up. He came off of the ice after forty five minutes, and when I told him he still had fifteen minutes more, he beamed.
When he took off his helmet, he looked so much like my little brother that I may have gotten tears in my eyes. I was worried that he would complain and not want to go back, but instead he complained that he didn't have hockey every day. He's probably asked us to take him skating at least twelve times since then.
This kid never ceases to amaze me.
3 comments:
Next time I come home we're going skating. I'm so proud of him! And Lu looks awesome kicking her leg out. tell the kids I love them please... love you too sister
I CANNOT believe parents actually said that OUT LOUD!! Yikes - time really stands still there, hmmm?
When my son was a junior in high school, he told me that one of the boys in the senior class, who by the way was a tri-sport athlete - soccer, basketball, and baseball, had talked a bunch of the other basketball players into taking dance classes, because he heard profesional athletes took dance lessions to increase their strength and flexibility. If they could do it at 18 surely your son can do it at his age.
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