There were ballet classes at the nursery school that she attended. I remember the ballet concert at the end of the year. My then husband leaned over and whispered to me - "Oh my goodness (well probably not those exact words knowing him), she's like a baby elephant!"
I remember pink leotards and tiny ballet socks and shoes, and practise, practise, practise. She wanted to be a ballerina.
Now it's pointe shoes and Royal Academy of Dance membership, and teacher exams. As the most senior girl in her ballet studio, my Sherae is the dancer all the little girls in thier pink leotards and tiny ballet socks and shoes look up to. They all want to be like her. She's a ballerina.
This coming Saturday is the year-end ballet concert. I know that as usual I will cry when I watch her float effortlessly across the floor. I know that the applause for her dances will sound louder to me than for any of the other dancers.
I'll be standing there clutching the camera and the video camera, trying to watch, take photos and record at the same time, whilst battling my emotions. It seems like yesterday that my "baby elephant" was prancing across the stage - thump, thump, thump. Trying to point her toes, and twirling in front of the mirror.
The first time I saw my daughter dance, I never imagined I'd still be watching 12 years later.