Not what she thought it would be.

The dresses lay in clear bags across the back of the room. She could see them as she peered around the door to walk in. Her very first ballet costume was among them. Fabric of pink and green sparkled as her teacher removed each dress and called the name of each little girl. Hailey walked across the circle of her friends, and stepped into her costume ever so delicately...smiling ear to ear. She stared across the floor to the wall covering mirrors, in awe of herself. She was a flower. She'd always wanted to be a flower. The flower was her destiny.

* * *

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Hailey, LOVES her ballet class...and, I credit a lot of her new found comfort in many situations, to what she's learned in ballet. It's given her confidence. It's taught her to cope with the unpredictable. And most importantly, it's loads and piles of fun.

For the past week, she's talked every day about how this week they were going to get their recital costumes, and this week, the mommies and daddies would get to see, and this week, it was going to be so amazingly, uncontrollably, out of sight kind of fun. They would be flowers. She would be a flower. In the back of my mind, this kind of talk from Hailey always weighs heavy on my heart. I've learned of her in her short 3 1/2 years of life, that when she builds something up (whether we build it with her, or try to talk it down to normal), she often crumbles when the time comes to actually have the fun we've had so much fun talking about. Not always, but often.

So. Tuesday came. We went to ballet. She, along with all her girls, got in her costume. We watched from the window as the girls twirled and giggled with glee. They knew this was special.

Then the parents walked in to watch up close. Many of the girls ran to their mommies for hugs and compliments. Hailey stood in her spot, and I could almost see the room spinning out of control around her as I imagine it must look in her eyes. I could see her smile growing heavy. Her body closing in.

As they started their dance, I watched my girl, who normally leads the pack with every step, stand still. She tried to walk to the next position, but she was frozen. Her eyes began to tear as she turned to me, her arms tucked in across her body. Her tears grew frantic, and I snuck across the floor to her rescue. She was too overwhelmed even to bring herself to me. She curled up in my arms, clinging like she was back in her first day of ballet class, all over again.

It was just too much.

What I truly love about her, is that after we've talked it out, and discussed how "not a big deal" the whole thing is, she's always able to go about things like normal again. She still loved her ballet class. She still loves her costume. She still wanted to twirl around the house in it later that afternoon.

Now. Will she feel this way again at her recital? I don't know. I'm working on helping her understand how "not a big deal" the whole deal is, so that maybe she'll find the confidence to beat whatever it is that's holding her back. But it's a lot...and it's not what this whole thing is about in the end. Just another time when I wish she were more clueless, less perceptive, less focused...for her own good.

I just know how she'd feel if she accomplished it...the whole recital thing. And in so many ways, for so many reasons, I want her to feel that.

But for today, I leave you with a little snippet of her twirling...at home...as happy as any little flower could ever be.