Dancer wasn't even two when she decided that ballet was her thing. "I want to do that," she declared emphatically, pointing at the TV. I laughed and told her Daddy that she was too young. No one will teach her yet, I said. If she's still asking in six months, we'll see. And in six months...she was still talking about ballet. And at six, she would rather go to ballet class than anything else. She asks for more classes. She practices voluntarily. She has a barre in her room!
Along comes Diva, watching everything Dancer does. She turned three and insisted on taking ballet. From the beginning it was clear that ballet was simply not her calling. Not that she couldn't do it - but that she doesn't really want to. She just doesn't care about ballet the way Dancer does. She's more likely to count the ceiling tiles during class than actually learn her dances. But, any time I mentioned her trying something else...complete and utter meltdown.
But she's five now, with two whole years of ballet under her belt. And I've gotten tired of watching her struggle in something that is clearly a waste of her time and our money. So, I pulled the plug.
But when I told her teacher that August would be Diva's last month of ballet, the woman looked relieved. So relieved, in fact, that I'm struggling not to be offended. In the classic conundrum of mother's everywhere, I know my daughter is terrible...but that doesn't mean you get to say it!
Not only was the woman relieved, she almost thanked me. And she made not one single attempt to talk me out of it! Now, I get it. This is the child that falls out of her chair at the table and trips on thin air. I think the words vivacious and dramatic and mischievous describe Diva better than graceful or precise. I can see her in drama, playing the drums, or doing jazz before I can see her in ballet.
Whereas Dancer is precise personified, Diva sometimes defines chaos.
We are, therefore, embarking on an exciting journey. We will be attempting gymnastics, Kenpo, possibly a musical instrument. We are leaving no stone unturned in the quest to find Diva her thing.
Hers. Not Dancer's, or mine, or her father's. Something that she does well and can love (or at least enjoy).
We may need prayers. This could get messy.