I took ballet classes from when I was four years old until maybe age seven, whenever third grade is age-wise since that's when auditioning for roles became a requirement I had no interest in. But yeah, when I was a young girl, I took ballet classes. They were taught by a Russian male instructor, who often told us funny stories about himself and his much younger siblings. One story I remember was his brother splitting up the Halloween candy between the two of them.
"One for you, one for me. One for you, two for me. One for you, three for me..." it was funny because like the brother knew how to count, he just was counting unfairly to obtain the extra candy! I don't know why I remembered that specific story and none of the other ones though. I also remember doing drills where he had to skip across the room, gallop across the room. I still think about ballet sometimes when my running breaks into a gallop.
Another childhood story only tangentially relates to ballet, since my mom was driving me there when the story occurred. She was driving, and I was in the backseat. Mom fell asleep at the wheel, and since she was driving, the car veered off the road into a stand of three trees all next to each other. They crashed, branches or something broke, I banged my head on the back of mom's seat but I was otherwise uninjured. No concussion. My mom had a massive cut in her armpit she was worrying about when the emergency services arrived.
The crash had occurred between two towns, so both towns' firefighters and police and ambulances arrived. Instead of spending my afternoon at ballet, I spent it at the hospital waiting for us to finish being checked out. I think it was my first time ever at a hospital that was not specifically a children's hospital. I mostly just remember being bored, weighing myself on the scale in the hallway, someone in scrubs let me pick out a sticker, and my mom was still worrying about if the armpit cut meant she would have to stop swimming regularly.
The other vivid memory from that afternoon was when Mom cried when she learned the car was probably irreparable. I also cried. We loved that van. We called it the red line van since it was gray with a red line. The next van we owned was completely red, a dark red rather than the vibrant red from the red line car.
ns216.73.216.13da2
and then Add to home screen.