This is a post that I originally shared in The Everyday Mommy blog but my daughter, crazily close to five already, lets me know I still need reminding. Today she has asked that I be an artist. I would miss the joy of that request and only feel frustrated by my lack of expertise if she hadn’t said, “I will love it mommy. I love all your drawings.” and gave me the freedom to enjoy the process, no matter the outcome!
Please be reminded yourself!
The other day I caught my daughter literally transfixed on the television. It was a holiday production of Swan Lake and she was entirely captivated. I was moved by her apparent interest in the program and innocently asked, “Do you think you want to be a dancer when you grow up? You could learn how to dance like that…”
I really thought I was being the encouraging and supportive mom but her hurt expression told me another story. “But I am already a dancer!” she exclaimed, clearly hurt that I might be suggesting otherwise.
It is true. My daughter is a dancer. She leaps into action at the slightest hint of music. Random humming by her mother can evoke entire productions and every television theme song has it’s own number. My girl can not walk in a straight line, ever. Where ever we go her gait is punctuated with pirouettes and leaping flourishes, spins and bows, dancing all the time!
What could I have been thinking?
I was thinking, in my overly trained adult mind, that dancing didn’t count unless it was professional grade. And when I say professional grade, that means someone with credentials must declare it so. Those Swan Lake performers made the cut by some director trained in evaluating ballet so I give them the nod of inclusion in my narrow little world. My daughter’s dance moves are often quite fantastic. Perhaps better then some professional ones but I am willing to discount them because she is not trained.
What ever happened to dancing for the sheer joy of it?
I suddenly recalled a study I read about somewhere in which a group of Kindergartners were asked to raise their hands if they were dancers, artists, singers, etc. All the kids raised their hands for everything. When the same question was posed to adults only 20% or less of the people raised their hands.
I would not have raised my hands even though I sculpt regularly with play doh, make up songs and sing stories about a mythical red iguana named Jelly, and dance multiple times daily with my daughter.
Somehow I discounted all of it.
This ends today. I am an artist. I am a chef. I am an architect. I am a dancer!
Who are you?
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And….as she also once said, “I am only here to dance!”
YES! She is, you are, we all are. And once we realize it, we can begin to dance….
Wow! I just love this post…it reminds us of the pure genius found in the innocence of children. I often think that although I’ve learned (and continue to learn) so many new, complex things as I get older, I have forgotten that sometimes, things don’t need to be so complicated to be understood. They don’t need to be complex to be true. Sometimes I am grateful for my little cousins, nieces and nephews for reminding me – in similar situations as your daughter’s here – that things should be looked at from a child’s perspective. They sure can teach us a lot.
What a WONDERFUL post!!!! I simply adore your daughter’s wisdom. This is a great lesson for us all. Hello – I am Theresa. I am an artist. I am a wife. I am a furry baby mom. I am a knitter. I am a photographer. I am a cook. I am a dreamer. I am ME! 🙂
As Tra says, “I am an artist. You are only a person”. Maybe I should try to embrace my inner artist more often. I think he has it right.