Back in September, Little Miss Sunshine started ballet classes on Monday afternoons while the older two were still in school. I thought it would be a nice quiet hour for me, maybe read a book, maybe pop out for an errand or two.
But then came the first week. I was sitting in the waiting area with a magazine when I heard a sound from the studio right next to ballet class. It sounded like…tapping. Good tapping. Advanced tapping.
One thing I don’t mention much on this blog is that I am a tap dancer. I’ve been tapping since I was a child and I’ve taken classes on and off as an adult. I LOVE tap dancing. It is the only form of exercise I actually get excited about. It is one of the few things that make me want to leave the house. In fact, I am proud to say that I own this:
Oh yes, I am serious about tap.
So I asked at the desk, and it turns out that the tap class that is on at the exact same time as ballet is an intermediate level tap class.
But they’re good! Really good! Most of them have been tapping for years. Most of them tap at least twice, sometimes three times a week. And, they even have their own little dance troupe, with costumes and bookings and shows and everything. They are SERIOUS about tap.
So I begged them to let me into the class, and they said yes, and the rest, as they say, is history.
I love my tap class. It’s so much fun, and bonus: I get to be the young kid in the class. One lady in the first week asked if “what are you, about 20?” AWESOME. It’s one of the highlights of my week.
So last week, I came into class as usual and there was a new person in the class.
Frances is a lady that used to be in my old tap class, a few years ago. I wrote a whole post about how awesome she is, because at that time she was already in her 70s and had just started to learn tap. I was in a class with other Mommy types and she was way older than us but still kicking up her heels in a kick-ass kind of way. Plus, I used to see her at the pool once a week when I took the Little Miss for a swim lesson, where she was doing laps with her husband.
I totally want to BE Frances when I grow up.
And there she was! In my new tap class! LIFE IS COMPLETE.
Of course she had only the haziest memory of who I was. It probably didn’t help that I assaulted her with glee and practically jumped around in her face. Frances! Frances! Frances! I care not. I will admire her from afar or close, as required.
The last few weeks, the Little Miss has been grumbling that she doesn’t care for ballet any more. TOO BAD KID. You will be going to ballet NOW AND FOREVER. Doesn’t she even realize that FRANCES is in my class now? I’m a lifer.