One day during the summer we were out front talking to the neighbor kids and one of the girls had to leave to go to dance class. Ever since Lily witnessed that she has begged to go to dance class. She wants to be a ballerina! She loves to dance! There is a little dance school very close to our house and they have a class for 3-6 year olds. It is called "creative movement."
I register and take her to a store called "Petticoat Junction" to buy her ballet outfit. Little pink tights, black leotard and pink leather shoes. Little pink skirts are optional, but of course we get one. She is so cute in her dance clothes I want to squish her.
I'm not allowed to stay and watch dance class. So for her first class I walk her in and show her where to sit and head home. On the way home I am so excited. I am in a hurry to catch Husbandface before he leaves for work to tell him about the cuteness.
I get home and get out of the car. In a hurry, I SLAM my right index finger in the car door, scraping skin off of it.
I run inside and yell, "Kevin!" He gives me his annoyed sigh and says "what?" I run to the sink to rinse off my finger. It hurts. I start to feel funny. Next thing I know I sit up off the floor and yell, "Where am I?"
I fainted. I drove home from my daughter's first ballet class and I slammed my finger in the car door and I fainted. Husbandface hugs me. I calm down. Husbandface wraps my finger up and gives me some water.
I sit on the couch until it is time to pick her up from class. I pick her up from her first ballet class with my right index finger wrapped in bandages but smiling. She loved it. She had fun! That is all that matters.