Want to dance with me, Mama?
Last summer, after I had checked the mail, a postcard had come advertising dance class. On it, it had little girls in tutus and immediately you exclaimed you were going to dance class. Never mind the logistics of it all, you were a self-proclaimed dancer.
As soon as Audrey wakes up, every Thursday, you go straight to your room, grab your dance bag and dress yourself in whatever leotard and tutu combo you deem good for that day.
You wait patiently as the class before you finishes up. You mimic their moves and swirls and leg lifts while singing to yourself.
When your turn comes, you quickly rush over to where Miss Kathy opens the door and comments on your fancy tutu.
After class finishes, you rush out the door exclaiming, “Mama!!” with a face beaming of pride.
From the moment you’ve started showing personality, I had a feeling you’d be the strong willed kid you are. You’ve always made your demands known and never shied away from what you really wanted.
I love your spirit, the way you can always manage to make me smile. The way you do everything with such passion and purpose. You turn putting dishes away into an enjoyable time by yelling, “I’m shaking my butt, mama!!” as you put the silverware away.
Your favorite song is Macklemore’s, “Ceiling Can’t Hold Us,” and when it comes on, you lift your hands up and start singing along.
Your other favorite song is the “Queen Bee” song, and for those who aren’t well verbose in Maelie, that’s “Royals” by Lorde.
You still give the best hugs.
You change your clothes a minimum of three times a day.
You’re a princess fancy-pants who enjoys dresses, dancing, legos with Luca, superheroes with Claire, and you choose to watch the Justice League over Barbie’s Dream House on Netflix. You’ve named Audrey “My Baby” and I feel bad for anyone who tries to claim it’s not your baby.
Last year on your birthday, I wrote to you my wishes for you. They are still true today.
“That one day, you’re going to grow up and be five, and then ten and then sixteen and then out of the house. And when that day comes, I want you to always remember what I told you on your second birthday. That no matter how big the world may seem sometimes, you can always come home. If someone tells you that you can’t do something, you do your best to figure out how to do it, and you do it right. Always strive to be the best person you can be and never settle. If you find that life is getting too complicated and confusing, take a deep breath, because life isn’t supposed to be that hard. It’s challenging and scary sometimes, yes, but it should always be worth the hard work you put into it.
I never want you to feel sad, and when you cry, I want to cry, too. But always remember, tomorrow is another day and you can try again.”
Yesterday, while I was cleaning up, you said, “Want to dance with me, mama?”
Always, Mae. Always.