Or I should say, Mootsie was a dancing machine. Last Friday was her first and LAST ballet class (at least for a while). Seems mom jumped the gun a wee bit and though she loves to dance and does arabesques of her own volition, she wasn't quite ready for an organized class. She hung tough through nearly 10 minutes of introductions and stretches before she could take no more and had to run and twirl and leap. I winced as the teacher took her firmly by the hand and danced her right out of the studio to me. Did Mootsie care? Nah, she got to rock a leotard and ballet shoes (and continues to do so actually) and after the class was over, and after she was officially expelled, she got busy with her own brand of ballet.