To dance, or, NOT to dance?

Ahhh, what is the question?

My daughter has adored the pillars of classical dance for some time, now. One of her favorite movies, since she was a wee(er) thing, is ‘Center Stage’. She asks for it and mimics the moves from her bedside; striving desperately for the perfect beauty of ballet as it should be. Her fancies, at this age, are naturally fleeting, but this is one that has lasted, for one-and-change of her three-point-five years, so…I beg the question. It is an expensive endeavor and I hate to push her because of that fact.

She likes to hit, and kick, and mess around/roughhouse/whatever you want to call it, too. So, her father suggested, rather reasonably, that we enroll her in martial arts, instead, soothing her need for physical exertion, positive discipline, and self-defense, all in one. I find myself torn, between romantic notions of my daughter dancing ‘The Nutcracker’ with the Royal Ballet, and a practicality that threatens to dampen her spirit.

She asked to go to dance class with a couple of the other little girls, today, a colleague told me. The thing is…she asks for so little. She’s precocious and seems to understand (most of the time) that a great many things don’t matter in the scheme of it all. However, the little things are all I can give her. Half of me screams that money is just paper. The other half argues that paper is all we have to pay the rent…and, not much of it (paper, that is; there’s plenty of rent).

Needless to say, I want to let her do both. I want to give her an opportunity at absolutely everything. I want to let her just shoot until she hits a target. I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that it’s unreasonable. Not just because I’m broke, but because it would engender in her an entitlement unsavory, illogical, and generally ugly in humankind. I don’t want to make the choice…it feels like a catch-22, however, I must. Because I’m her Mom. I have been entrusted with her well-being. I have to make the tough choices. My tough choices are all made with her best interests in mind, otherwise, the frivolous side of me would have pissed and pouted until she had dance classes. I’m doing my research in the area, and planning on a happy medium for Kyra; not her parents.

Because, well, what do we know; except what we’ve lived?

Thanks for reading.

-J-

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