Oy! If only my pictures would upload . . . because Miss Thang is dancing now. (Don't call it dance, though, be sure you call it balyet.)
I am always a little afraid when I go to pick her up, because, well, it's Sascha. In public. With other kids. And grown-ups who, up til now, have only known Caroline, the sweet, compliant child I birthed and don't worry about in public (with other kids and grown-ups).
Already I am hearing stories . . . one mom said, "Oh! She's yours. My little girl came home and said there was a new, short girl named Sascha who ran around a lot."
Yep. She's mine.
And her teacher informed me that today while changing from tap shoes to ballet shoes, Sascha had to stop and answer her princess phone (which was in her Dora purse in her dance bag). Can't miss a call from Cinderella, can we?
Sigh. She's gonna be the one . . . the one who keeps me humble and helps me remember to watch what I say (even at home when I think that no one else is listening).
Oh, but she's cute. And when she tells me I'm her garel (translation-girl), I'm a ooey-gooey puddle.
9 hours ago