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Tuesday, September 24, 2013

The Ballad of the Ballerina

The Ballad of the Ballerina.
A Sophie Petersen original work of live theatrical art, as depicted by her mommy, Lisa Morabito Petersen.

       My 3 year old and I have a weekly tradition of going to ballet class on Tuesday morning, followed by a trip to a neighborhood coffee shop.  Soph loves it because they have pink macaroons, bistro tables for two and a shop.
       My ballerina gracefully prances her way into the shop, which has an intimacy that recalls a French cafe.  In it, she looks like a living Degas portrait.  Her pink leotard and tutu bounce playfully and her giant round eyes bob with laughter and seem exceptionally large and beautiful today, as her hair sits in a perfect ballerina bun on top of her head.  The look is completed by a bedazzled mini tiara.
     We choose our snack and grab a table.  A steady stream of admirers pass by and remind Sophie how adorable she looks and inquire about her ballerina costume.  After we enjoy our pink and green macaroons, Sophie enjoys the freedom of choosing a children's book from a magazine rack at the front of the store..."All by her self." As Mommy, I love this feature to the shop because not only does it encourage us to bring our children to the quant shop, but to sit, read, and even stay a while.  Their selection for children are mostly books with heavy themes of being environmentally friendly and scientifically minded.  Oh, it makes me feel so smart and intellectual, I could squeak like a baby dolphin.  The book about invention is followed by a book about how aliens destroyed the world because they used all the resources irresponsibly.  Now that I have patted myself on the back for being such a great guiding mommy, we peruse the store.
     The store is filled with beautiful things...trinkets, candles, paintings, etc.  Deep in the store, one table is an oasis of children's books and toys.  Sophie is relieved when I give her the "ok" to touch the items on that table.  After she thumbs through a few books, she spots a notebook shaped tin with a picture of a ballerina on the front, containing (40+!!!!) magnets to design the dancer's scene.  She turns to me, with the tin hugged to her body. "Dress ups, Mommy!!! Can I take this home with me?  Please?" she says straddling a line of begging and sensibility just perfectly.  "We have so many toys at home Soph.  We just got some things yesterday at the store," I counter.  "But I want to play with this," she argues.  By this point, I am at the cashier prepared to pay for a friend's gift.
      As I turn to look at my daughter, she transports me into her tragedy.  All of the sudden, she becomes aware of the sad French song that is playing throughout the store.  She turns from me, defeated.  Her arms slump, her head hangs forward, and she drags her feet as she forces herself to return the toy to the table. As she gets a few feet from me, the music swells, she turns to me and holds out the toy with both hands, her eyes begging me to love her by buying her this.  She knows I have made up my mind, as she hugs the toy to her chest and dramatically turns toward the table.  She holds her position, as the singer quietly explains something in French.  To the beat of the ballad, Sophie does a trudge, trudge, trudge, trudge all the way to the table.  I laugh to myself, as I think that it almost worked on me. 
       As she lifts the tin, the singer and Sophie have clearly conspired against me.  She glides the tin over it's place on the table, spins to the neighboring table and places it down, with her mournful head on top. Sophie looks up, at just the right angle that might make you mistake her for a lost puppy.  She says nothing and although I don't speak French....I'm prrrrrrtetty sure the singer was narrating Sophie's dance with a "Why don't you love me.  If you loved me, you would buy me this."  Sophie continues her dance with the tin, to the French song.  I turn away, as I can feel my resolve melting by the soft ember burn of her perfectly executed ballet.
       "Bring it to the counter," I say still facing away.
       "What?" says a little voice infused with disbelief.
       "Well," I thought, "If she can't win a Tony for that performance, she should at least get a toy."
        In all seriousness, we, as parents, are constantly caught between the idea of wanting to give them the world and wanting to teach them how to deal with not getting everything they want.  It's a road well traveled and we all do our best.  Today, she showed me she had some real artistic determination and that...I just have to appreciate.  There's a lot of nuance in parenting...and apparently that is not lost on our children.  Enjoy it because, as they say, "It will all be over too soon."


*The picture is from last week's class, but it gives you an idea of what I'm working with here.  Pure cuteness.