Soft Hands, Sharp Hands

Yesterday, in a humble little Scouts hall down the road Raina experienced her very first ballet class. It was quite a nostalgic afternoon for me watching my daughter enter the world in which I toiled and revelled for many a year. She had been very excited to try on leotard and tights earlier in the afternoon, but as the time for class drew near she started to say things like "If it doesn't work out..." so I thought we'd end up just watching. But no, the music and dancing were too enticing, and she happily joined in 'picking flowers' with soft hands, making tiger noises with sharp hands, running on tippy toes... as long as I was there right next to her. And I was immediately transported back to the Masonic Hall in Lae, Papua New Guinea, where I started learning all those things too.