I’ve not been to a ballet class before.  Not even as a child, when Saturday mornings for me were spent at the swimming pool rather than in a dance studio.

When my hero and I were invited to attend an open class with one of our small friends though, we didn’t hesitate and this afternoon we spent a fascinating hour in the company of seven young dancers whose poise and grace during the class was remarkable. 

Not only did we learn quite a lot of ballet terms, I was fascinated by the deft manner their mothers had when it came to putting the girls’ hair up in a bun, for bringing up a son meant I never had to acquire such skills.  Anyway, after an hour of pliés, chassés and sautés, our small friend was pretty tired and ready for home.

But true to form, after the class we came back chez nous to create a page for her Christmas book about it. 

Magical days.