Madeline started ballet this week. Can I just say looking at this grown-up girl in the black leotard makes me want to cry?
But I won't because a) she's so stinkin' adorable and b) she was so excited to begin dancing.
I had grand plans about her ballet shoes. I wanted to get them at the same dancewear store where my mom and I got my ballet slippers when I started my illustrious but short-lived ballet career.
(Sidenote: my strongest memory of ballet is looking around the room and realizing other girls could do the splits while stretching but my legs could only make a V-shape.)
Outside the ballet studio, I do remember very clearly walking into that store and being fitted for my slippers.
So I planned to get Madeline's slippers on Tuesday morning, an entire day before her class, and take the camera to take pictures of her during her fitting. (Gasp! Katie with a camera? I know.)
It was a great idea. Until my phone buzzed on Tuesday morning with a calendar reminder that her class was on Tuesday, not Wednesday.
Ensue chaotic morning of rushing to the store, discovering that the store doesn't have her size, trying not to turn beet-red when I say I can't order her shoes because her class is in, oh, 90 minutes, speeding up Carmel to another store to get her shoe size, and rushing back to her class.
Since it wasn't quiet the serene and peaceful morning I had planned, I forgot to take the camera with me to the store which meant I didn't have it for her class.
Motherhood DOUBLE FAIL.
But it turned out just fine because she got her slippers, loved her class and was eager to show off her moves when she came home.
I know I've said it before but seriously, how in the world did I become the mother of a dancing 3-year-old who is also a photographer?
I'm pretty sure I was just given an infant yesterday.