tiny dancer

Late again. I was so focused on the grocery trip that I forgot we had music class until it was half over. Although the studio is just a few blocks away, we only managed to catch the last three songs of class.

Miss Carol has called Eliza her "little dancer" every week for over a year. Dancing has always been Eliza's favorite part of class, even when she was an in-arms baby. No matter how otherwise sad, angry, or indifferent, she always snaps out of it (temporarily) to dance. She doesn't just throw her body into it, she feels it in her soul.

Today, Eliza was having a partially indifferent day. She had no interest in playing the drum before her, but she happily crawled into my lap for a cuddle-and-snuggle song that precedes the goodbye song. When everyone stood up to leave, Eliza leapt to her feet. "That was easy," I thought, having feared she wouldn't want to leave after just a few songs. But she didn't follow me to the door. She stood there with her arms out, saying something I couldn't hear above the din. I went to her and asked her to repeat what she said. "Mommy, please dance with me?" I held her hands and started to dance without music. She stopped me: "No, no. Wait for the music." I was surprised because she has heard the same goodbye song every week for 2 years, and she knows what it means, but we'd never been this late before.

I suggested we stop off at home to dance before going to the store, but she quietly and sadly turned me down. Miss Carol had even kindly offered to let us stay for the next class as we were leaving, but when I asked Eliza what she wanted to do, she just said to go to the car. Was she sure? "Yes," she sighed, still sounding sad. Once in the car, I reiterated my suggestion to dance at home, but she again said no.

I let her down - all because I was too scatter-brained to remember which day it is. Perhaps she'll feel like her usual self once she wakes up from her nap.