Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Our arrival at the small local studio occurs faster than I predicted yet trying to find parking so close to the start time results in me dropping them off at the front to guarantee I keep my word. By the time I finally park, I’m left basically sprinting to get to the building in order to prevent missing the big opening. Finding my family in the packed room isn’t difficult; however, quietly trying to sneak to the area near the front of the stage when you’re two hundred and fifty pounds in what are apparently tap boots is impossible.
The second I slink into my chair, Joeski leans over and teasingly sings in a whisper, “Up on the rooftop, click click click, down in the seat goes Old St. Nick.”
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“And you’re lucky I love Christmas.” Small giggles are met by a harsher stare. “I can parody so many songs.”
“Wrong scoreboard, baby.”
Carolina Delgaizo, the school owner who is also the mother to one of our Ice Girls, warmly begins introductions, which includes thanks to the local sponsors that apparently includes my mother’s company.
Bewilderment that she hadn’t mentioned it sooner has me reaching across Joeski’s lap to her leg in question.
Rather than verbally answer, she simply winks.
Wordlessly indicates she’s happy to support my little one, the same way she supported me.
Thoughts of having her drive all around Alaska and later Wisconsin from January to December to get me to games and tournaments and championships when I was Bella’s age and upward effortlessly pulls a bashful beam to my face.
She always put me first.
Even above Father’s career or moves.
What was best for me mattered the most.
Not how much sleep she hadn’t had.
Not how much caffeine she was going to need.
Not even how many extra hours would be necessary to pull in order to cover unforeseen expenses like getting a passport to play in another country.
She did whatever she had to just like Joeski does for Bella.
Yeah, I pay for her to care – which is beginning to feel awkward now that we’re together – but from day one she’s gone above and beyond.
Continues to go above and beyond.
What else do you call arranging a “cultural day” at our house with the other Slayers and their kids so they can see and experience one another’s differences in a healthy environment?
I’m glad she’s there for my little girl.
I really am.
I just hope I’m successfully being more present than my father was for me because that shit is just one of those feelings, I still haven’t been able to completely shake.
The showcase begins with an older group of students doing a hip-hop, country combination to a Tanner Adell song and proceeds in a seemingly predictable fashion of having younger classes sprinkled in between older ones. Bella’s first performance is modern; however, everything about it leaves me wondering what the fuck am I exactly paying for considering I’ve seen her dance better to the intro of Doc McStuffins. Her second demonstration of skills thankfully is better yet the closing act. Several pictures are taken by my girlfriend and my mom alike and rather than concern myself with joining in, I simply appreciate the moment. Let gratitude that they’ll both be sending me the best ones later wash over me while I get lost in the joy my little girl is exuding in what can only be labeled as her element.
Why do I feel like those expressions are the exact ones I made when I first started learning to play?
“And now,” Chelesea Delgaizo, Bella’s dance teacher who also gave me her number in hopes of a date when I first enrolled her, enthusiastically states into the microphone that’s lingering a little too close to her scarlet painted lips, “would one parent for each of the students in the Twinkle Toes class come to the stage?”
There’s no hesitation from me to hop to my feet, eager to support my daughter in whatever way she needs.
Afterall, it’s not like I get to physically be here often.
The second Bella sees me, she frantically waves as though I’m not looking right at her, and chuckling to myself over her excitement can’t be helped.
“Hi, Daddy!Hi, Daddy!Hi, Daddy!” she joyously squeals on a hug of my leg. “Hi!”
“Hey, Princess,” I lovingly coo back barely having time to fix her crooked crown before her instructor is speaking again.
“Here at The Dance Barn, one of the things we pride ourselves in is peer-based teaching. Letting our dancers learn from others doing the work just like they are. We feel it builds bonding and community and togetherness.”
All three of those words mean the same fucking thing.
She just trying to run out the clock or what?
“This mentoring program starts all the way at the top and trickles down to these tiny dancers you’re standing with.”
My suspicion about what’s coming next is almost immediately fulfilled.