Each day she asks if it is Tuesday. Tuesday is Dance Class Day. Dance Class Day is a special day. A holiday. Every Tuesday she dresses herself in pink from head to toe. Clutching her pink bag, she bounces into the dance studio, pony tail bobbing.
I watch from afar. She does not speak to the other girls as she takes her place at the very end of the row. She stands a little too close to the girl on her right. The music starts. She bumps into the girl. The girl does not seem to mind. Her eyes burn with intensity as she watches the teacher. Shuffle-hop-step. It takes her a moment to process the move and execute it, but she does it. The rest of the class has already moved on to the next foot, then on to the next step.
I watch from afar, and I fret. Her processing and motor planning issues are evident. It is difficult for her to coordinate her arms and legs. She is always behind.
Then I see it. That smile. Stretched from ear to ear. And I relax. Keep dancing, sweet girl.