Dancing queen.

Dear Z,

Be still my heart! You have started dancing! True, it is mostly a little bobbing of the knees and flapping of the arms but STILL!! Dancing!

Despite all my declarations thus far about how I will NOT push you to dance, will NOT enroll you in classes (unless you beg), will NOT buy you little ballerina dolls in the hopes of brainwashing you into a love of dance, I must confess I had a brief, fantasy flash of the future. You, in a frou-frou tutu, grand jeteing across a stage and me, in the audience, proudly clucking to my unlucky neighbors and clutching snot-soaked tissues to my wrinkly, sun damaged, sagging-and-yet-flat chest.

Don't worry, I'm not preparing for stage mother insanity just yet.

Love,

your Clueless But Hopeful Mama