Scarlett wasn't too well yesterday, she had a cold and a cough and was feeling a bit sorry for herself. Luckily I had found something to really brighten her up. She loves our oil painting of a ballerina and often says "I wish I was a ballerina." When my eldest daughter, her Mum, was just a little bit older than her she used to say exactly the same thing too so we enrolled her in little ones ballet classes. After about a year she lost interest and didn't want to go any more but it an enjoyable time she remembers fondly, even though the old lady who taught them was rather "old school". I often remember her and her massive old Victorian house with part of the downstairs converted into a dance studio as I walk by where it was. It was as if you had stepped back in time when you went in and is still firmly retained in my mind, even the smell of the polish. Sadly the whole house has gone now and a block of flats has replaced it and even though I remember the place I can't remember the old ladies name. That is going to irritate me until I do, I hate it when I forget names.
This week I searched out eldest daughters old ballet shoes and gave them to her. She was so excited. They just about fit, maybe a little big but they still have the pink elastic I sewed on to keep them on. She danced and pirouetted about the place all day. We weren't allowed to call her Scarlett we had to call her ballerina! It made her completely forget her cold. While she as practicing her ballet positions the fox came down and looked in at her. I said "Look even the fox is so impressed with your dancing he's coming down to watch!" I'm sure she believed it was true.
