"Lily," she says tiredly, "You have to land in a plié, or you'll hurt your knees."
From the kitchen I roll my eyes. Emma repeats this instruction.
"Em," I say, "Lily has no idea what a plié is." (And if we're being honest, neither do I) "You'll have to show her.
"She knows," she tells me, but then watches as Lily completes four or five more stomping stiff legged bounces. "Lily, show me a plié!"
Lily jumps again, performing some sort of complicated kick. Emma shakes her head. "No that's a passé! Show me a plié!"
I chuckle at this and shake my head at her, rising from the table and wandering just out of the room, busying myself with something or other. Emma gathers herself and climbs to her feet, positioning herself in front of Lily and adopts an instructive tone. "Like this!" I hear her say. A moment passes. "No, like this!" She repeats. I hear bouncing. "Great job, Lily!" I hear at last.
These...these are the happy little seeds, planted by my children, that blossom into awesome days for me.
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| Lily now attends dance once a week! |
