The Pajama'ed Ballerina

Written by Jodi Neelin

Inspiration

With her third birthday approaching and each hair washing still a cause for hysterics, it was time to take action. I suggested the age-old trick of stickers on a chart with the dangled carrot of a present at the end of it, not expecting too much. Surprisingly, Jenna went for it and the game was on.

The challenge quickly paid off. While she was a little apprehensive for the first one or two shampoos, Jenna pulled through like a pro and our eardrums were spared.

The presentation of the reward coincided with the fifth in a series of snowy days and served as a fabulous distraction to cabin fever. A do-it-yourself ballerina outfit, it was complete with a leotard-tutu combination, fake satin ballet slippers, a ponytail holder made of organza-like ribbons and flowers, two tubes of glitter glue, a few strands of pink and purple ribbons, four fabric flowers and a baggie of sequins. The piece de resistance was a little silver comb with attachable tiara.

Jenna was smitten.

Because of her impatient glee, I didn't have time to fuss with the decorations or negotiate the finer points of dressing a ballerina. The ensemble had to go on right over the pajamas. Actually, the snuggly brown fleece with baby pink hearts went pretty well with the raspberry tulle, although pulling the delicate $12 costume over the thick, cozy pjs was a bit of a struggle. We secured the "bally" shoes over the footies and I gingerly slid the plastic comb into her thick mane.

The transformation was instantaneous. My daughter, a bouncing, giggling, outgoing imp just a few seconds before, was now a poised swan. Her radiant face was evidence of her graceful new alter ego.

"I love your tutu!" I told my little Anna Pavlova.

She was offended. "Mommy! It's not a tutu, it's a dress!" she corrected in irritated indignation.

Eyes closed and her mouth in an enigmatic Mona Lisa-like smile, she stretched her right arm forward and pointed her left leg back. Her left arm followed out toward the extended leg as it left the ground in a wobbly arabesque. As she started to topple, a few haphazard step-ball-changes got her back on track and she began to sing.

"Little Einsteins," Jenna crooned and opened her eyes. She twirled around as she reached "Free! Two! One!" She circled the floor, gaining momentum as she belted out the next verse. A few more steps and then she trailed off for a moment, sidetracked by a mark on the floor tile. It took another second or two for her to remember her lines and she went on to finish the song with a flourish. "Yeah! Duh nuh nuh!"

I found myself suppressing a very strong urge to burst out laughing, sweep her up and cover her chubby little cheeks with kisses, but I knew that wasn't a reaction befitting a dignified entertainer. I did permit myself a wide grin and said, "That was wonderful, my sweetheart!"

Her proud smile was all a mother could ever hope for. It was filled with abandon and uncontaminated imagination.

For a second I was three again, too, a fresh, unwritten page. I hope Jenna will always carry that inhibition with her and remain in touch with her inner princess. I am so grateful to her for returning to me that innocence, if only for a moment. I will treasure it for a lifetime.

Jodi Neelin is a frequent contributor to Inspired Mother Magazine and author of The Pregnasaurus. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her daughter and husband.