Excuse me while I compose myself, because I’m sobbing like a baby. Well, not like a baby. I am sobbing like a mom. And you know what that looks like. It’s eyes filled to the brim while I gaze upon my little girl who is growing right before my eyes. I am smiling and crying at the same time. I am looking at this little four year-old but simultaneously seeing the little baby I used to hold in my arms and a young lady stepping further into independence.

Emma started ballet today. We have been talking about getting her into ballet since she was two. She has always enjoyed dancing and twirling. I could tell that she wanted to dance before she even formed complete sentences. It was important to me that this be her choice. I did not want to project some ideal of my own for wanting a little ballerina in the family. I waited until she kept asking and seemed serious about starting something she could claim as her own.

There is a local ballet academy that is considered to be more serious and structured in which I thought Emma would thrive and enjoy. And today, she started her first pre-ballet class and I am beaming with joy and pride and mom-sized emotions.