#Ballerina Classes For Toddlers

[allstarstudiosnyc]

Tiny Tutus: The Magic Of Ballerina Classes For Toddlers

Introducing the enchanting world of dance to toddlers is a delightful journey, and ballerina classes tailored for these tiny dancers create a magical and whimsical experience. In this blog post, we'll explore the joy and benefits of ballerina classes designed specifically for toddlers, as they take their first steps into the world of ballet.

Gentle Beginnings: The Beauty of Ballerina Classes for Toddlers

Ballerina classes for toddlers are crafted with the unique needs and energy levels of these little dancers in mind. These classes provide a gentle introduction to the fundamentals of ballet, allowing toddlers to explore movement, rhythm, and coordination in a nurturing and playful environment. The keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers" encapsulates the specialized nature of these programs, designed to capture the attention and imagination of the youngest aspiring dancers.

As you search for the perfect ballerina classes for your toddler, keep an eye out for programs that prominently feature the keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers" in their descriptions. This ensures that the classes are thoughtfully designed to engage and inspire toddlers, making their first foray into ballet a joyous and age-appropriate experience.

Creative Expression: Unleashing the Inner Ballerina

Ballerina classes for toddlers go beyond structured movements; they encourage creative expression and imagination. Instructors often incorporate imaginative play, storytelling, and age-appropriate props to make the learning process enjoyable and engaging for toddlers. These classes provide a space where tiny dancers can explore their love for movement and express themselves freely.

Look for ballerina classes for toddlers that emphasize the keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers" in their approach to creative expression. This signifies a commitment to fostering a positive and playful learning environment where toddlers can twirl, leap, and discover the magic of ballet in a way that aligns with their developmental stage.

Motor Skills and Coordination: Building a Strong Foundation

Ballerina classes for toddlers play a crucial role in the development of motor skills and coordination. Through simple and age-appropriate exercises, toddlers refine their balance, spatial awareness, and fine motor skills. These classes lay the groundwork for physical development while instilling a love for movement that can last a lifetime.

When researching ballerina classes for toddlers, consider programs that emphasize the keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers" in their descriptions of developmental benefits. This signals a commitment to providing a holistic learning experience that goes beyond dance, contributing to the overall growth and well-being of toddlers.

Parent-Toddler Bonding: Sharing the Joy of Ballet

Many ballerina classes for toddlers incorporate parent or caregiver participation, creating a shared experience that strengthens the bond between adults and toddlers. This interactive approach not only allows parents to actively participate in their child's learning journey but also fosters a sense of comfort and security for the little dancers.

As you explore different ballerina classes for toddlers, look for programs that highlight the keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers" in their family-friendly initiatives. This indicates a commitment to creating a warm and inclusive atmosphere where both toddlers and their caregivers can share in the joy of ballet exploration.

Ballerina classes for toddlers set the stage for a magical introduction to the world of dance. By seeking out classes that prominently feature the keyword "ballerina classes for toddlers," parents can ensure that their little ones are entering a nurturing and age-appropriate learning environment, where the joy of ballet unfolds and creates cherished memories. So, let the tiny tutus twirl, and watch as your toddler's love for ballet blossoms in these enchanting early dance experiences.

[mashtatosworld]

tiny dancer

summary: your baby has her first dance lesson!

It started, like most things in your house, with Jiyong’s stubborn determination.

“Baby gymnastics,” you suggested, scrolling through a list of toddler-friendly classes on your phone. “I did it when I was her age - it’s great for coordination.”

But he already had his heart set on baby ballet - had done ever since he found out you were pregnant.

Jiyong’s face scrunched up in immediate disapproval. “Gymnastics? Jagi, please. No. Ballet is the foundation of all dance. Besides..." He cleared his throat. "Gymnastics is dangerous."

That was more like it. Your husband, always one to panic over his baby's safety.

“She’s two,” you deadpanned. "She's not going to be doing backflips."

"But picture her in a little tutu. Just - ” His brows drew together, resting his head on your arm as you lay together in bed. “Please. Our tiny ballerina.”

“She won't like it."

You knew your baby. And she had little tolerance for anything delicate, slow or gentle. She constantly jumped off the back of the couch, rolled across your bed - almost flattening Iye one time, and always tried to climb over the baby gates.

Now that you thought about it, maybe Jiyong's frantic states were reasonable...

“I loved it. She'll love it.” He sighed dramatically, like you were depriving her of a destiny written in glitter and tulle. “Come on, imagine her first recital. The little bun in her hair. Please.”

You rolled your eyes - because of course he was already envisioning stage lights and bouquets - but his excitement was contagious, and really, how could you say no when his face lit up like that?

“Fine. Ballet it is.”

“YES!”

Zoa flew off the bed at his loud shout.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The day of her first lesson, Jiyong was up before anyone else - rifling through the tiny ballet clothes you bought, laying out her tutu, tights, and slippers with the kind of reverence usually reserved for his Chanel appearances.

“My baby,” he cooed as she toddled into the room, still half-asleep after breakfast, with her hair sticking out in all directions. “Come here, princess. Appa’s gonna teach you some moves so you’re ready for class.”

He demonstrated a surprisingly graceful plié, then rose up on his toes with a soft arm circle above his head. “See? Easy.”

Diva blinked at him. Then turned and waddled straight for her toy box.

“Wait, wait, no - come back!” Jiyong tried again, gently taking her tiny hands and lifting them into position. She yanked them back to clutch her stuffed animal, totally uninterested. “Okay, okay, we’ll warm up later,” he muttered, already sweating.

Undeterred, he sat her down to get her dressed, wrestling with the tiniest pair of pink tights in existence, muttering curses under his breath every time her chubby legs kicked free. By the time the tutu was on, Jiyong’s hair was sticking up worse than Diva’s.

“Okay, hair time,” he declared, grabbing a brush and a handful of sparkly hair ties. Diva, however, had other plans - squirming, giggling, and wiggling out of his grip.

“Hold still, baby, please - just one bun,” he pleaded, trying to gather her wild hair into something resembling order.

"No." She pouted, shaking her head.

The hairbrush clattered to the floor. The first hairband pinged across the room, followed by another.

“Yah! Why is her hair like this?!” he gritted out, a hair pin balanced between his teeth whilst his hands were occupied with sweeping her hair into his grip and holding her still.

“She gets it from you,” you called from the doorway, amused.

He turned, wide-eyed, the pin falling from his mouth. “No.” he muttered defensively.

You sauntered in, scooping Diva into your lap with practiced ease. “First mistake? You didn’t wet her hair.” You grabbed the spray bottle off the dresser, giving her hair a quick mist. “You’re fighting a bird’s nest right now.”

Jiyong watched in awe as you sectioned and smoothed Diva’s tangled locks with ease. She sat still for you - the traitor - humming softly and pulling curiously at her little slippers as you worked.

“I adore you.” he whispered, like you were a hair magician.

“I know.” You shot him a smug smirk, tying off the perfect little ballet bun. “Stick to creative direction, Ji.”

“Not fair,” he muttered, but softened immediately when Diva turned to the mirror, examining her own reflection.

“Pretty,” she mumbled, patting her head.

Jiyong melted. “The prettiest.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The excitement carried all the way to the studio - right up until the teacher, with a gentle smile, explained that parents weren’t allowed to watch the first few lessons.

“It helps them focus,” she explained. “Without distractions or - ” her eyes flickered briefly to Jiyong, “ - hovering.”

You felt him stiffen beside you. “But - I just - ” He trailed off, looking absolutely heartbroken. “I’ll be quiet. I swear.”

“I’m sorry. It’s studio policy.”

“Come on,” you said softly, tugging his sleeve. “Let’s go grab a coffee or something.”

He didn’t budge.

"Do you like music? Specifically rap?" He asked suddenly, crossing his arms.

"Jiyong, no." You yanked him this time, before he could try and pull the 'GDragon' card.

Instead, he was forced to pace the hallway, glancing at the closed studio door every few seconds, his hands fidgeting in his pockets.

“Ji...” you sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“I know Jagi, I just - do you think she's making friends?”

Ever since she had started nursery, you'd been informed she was making friends. But she never spoke about it. She just always shrugged, going back to playing with her toys.

“She’s fine,” you assured him, settling into a seat with your phone.

But of course, he couldn’t leave it alone.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You are scrolling through your schedule for the week when you caught him kneeling on the floor, peeking through the tiny gap in the door’s keyhole - one eye squinted shut, the other trying to catch the smallest glimpse of his baby girl. “Jiyong!”

He jumped back, guilty as anything.

“Sit down,” you scolded. “The other parents are watching.”

“Most of them left!” he tutted fiercely as he stood up from the ground. “They went to get coffee! What kind of parents just leave?”

“Normal ones.” You shrug. “Ones who trust their kids are fine.”

He sat - reluctantly - bouncing his knee, checking the time on his watch every thirty seconds. Every giggle or shuffle from inside made him tense, and by the time the door finally opened, he practically sprinted to scoop Diva up.

“Princess! How was it? Did you have fun? What did you learn? Did you twirl? Did you do pliés? Did you like your teacher? Tell Appa everything!”

Diva, in true Diva fashion, offered exactly two words: “It good.”

“That’s it?” Jiyong blinked. “What about - ”

She wriggled out of his arms until she was reluctantly placed on her feet, and took your hand, already more interested in the snack you promised her than her father’s interrogation. Jiyong followed, looking absolutely perplexed that his daughter - his tiny ballerina - was giving him nothing.

“She’s two,” you reminded him softly. “Give her time.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The evening was quiet - you were at the stove, stirring something for dinner, the scent filling the kitchen while Jiyong sat cross-legged on the floor with Diva in the living room.

You were about to ask him to set the table but could hear his soft voice, asking one more time, “Are you sure you don’t want to show Appa what you learned?”

Silence.

You peeked your head around the corner, about to rescue him from another round of toddler evasiveness - when you saw it.

Diva, still in her little pink tights, standing perfectly on her tiptoes, arms raised in a soft circle above her head. She twirled - just once, her balance wobbly but determined, a tiny ballerina in her own world.

Jiyong’s breath caught, his eyes soft with wonder.

He didn’t say a word. He just watched, hands resting in his lap, pride and love written all over his face.

You stayed quiet too, letting them have that moment. You watched as your tiny ballerina danced for her biggest fan, and no one else.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

im so soft for gdad. had to post this after the last angsty one... also posting early since i'll be busy tonight - love mash xx

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

girl dad geto

the moment you and geto found out that your first baby is a girl, geto was more proactive than you in picking out all the baby items - all pastel colored in pretty girly colors like pink, peach, purple, etc.

and the nursery room - goodness, it was like a strategic battle planning as he was standing in the doorway, holding different pastel colored strips, picking out what will be the prettiest one for his baby girl.

"she won't even see them," you said as you caressed your swollen belly, "their eyesight can only recognize black or white."

but he wouldn't listen, instead, he kissed your temple lovingly and ushered you out of the nursery room.

"you go worry about getting a lot of rest. go watch your favorite series, i'll bring you to the spa later after i pick a color," he said while making sure you get to the living room safely, putting a cashmere blanket over your thighs after he placed your swollen legs on top of an ottoman, "just relax and be your beautiful self there, okay?"

you shook your head in defeat, smiling thoughtfully on your doting husband, "fine. just don't go overboard," but you already knew that he definitely will go overboard.

and when she was born, geto was over the moon, couldn't take his eyes off your tiny newborn with a proud, thoughtful smile on his lips, humming a soft nursery rhyme that he deliberately learned while you were pregnant.

on her first birthday, geto made sure that everything is complete - balloons, three-layered cake, food, design (which he did on his own, refusing your help even if you insisted hard), everything. it was beautiful and your toddler enjoyed the mascots dancing, family, friends and kids playing around her, cooing and making her laugh.

and when she wanted to learn how to dance ballet, geto was there, learning everything as he watched every session, ignoring the other moms who dared flirt with him by simply putting up your wedding ring on his finger with a polite smile.

at home, he would practice - yes, practice with your daughter to prepare for the upcoming recital, calming her nerves, telling her that she is the prettiest ballerina princess in her class. and he is the proudest dad during the day of recital, making sure that your daughter sees where you are both seated, and made sure it was all caught on video.

when your daughter turned ten, she became curious about make-up. guess who she practiced her skills on - of course her papa. you arrived from work, expecting to find your two favorite people lounging in the pool area, instead you find them in your daughter's princess room - geto's long hair in french-braid, face painted with thick make-up and uneven eyeliners on his eyelids.

"this is not what i imagined you guys would be doing," you tried to stifle a laugh and geto just looked at you with a resigned smile, shrugging as if he doesn't look ridiculous.

"as long as my princess is happy," he simply said, while your daughter scolds him for moving too much.

after the very long day, you and geto sat on the living room, his arms around you while you nestled on his side, your hands splayed on his torso.

"do you think she is happy?" he said in deep thought

you looked at him lovingly, thinking how you got lucky for marrying a husband like geto suguru who is handsome, hot-rocking body, hardworking, doting, loving and totally girl-dad coded. then you kissed his jaw and rested on head on his chest, "baby, i think our girl is the happiest for having you as her dad and i am the luckiest for marrying a husband like you. thank you for everything that you do for our family."

he hummed softly and kissed your temple, needing to hear what you just said. comfortable silence filled the air as you just sat there, relaxing in each other's presence.

then, he asked, "so how do you make those moist cookies again? she wanted to bring some for her slumber party in three days."

you chuckled and hugged him tighter, "don't worry, i'll teach you tomorrow."

[copperbadge]

[ID: A series of photographs taken at the Chrysler Museum in Norfolk, VA; they include a close up of tuned glasses with their notes labeled on them in a Harmonicon set; a blue bull's head with "tongue" sticking out which is actually a mustard pot with spoon; two pieces in contrast, one an ancient reclining woman on a sarcophagus, the other a modern sculpture of drapery reclining with no figure inside, made of sandblasted glass; a Frank Lloyd Wright designed window backlit by natural light from a pair of glass doors behind it; and lastly, the sculpture at the front of the museum, looking out over the water, showing a man astride a rearing horse, reaching down to help another man up.]

When I was in Virginia, we wanted to take Toddler U to the Chrysler Museum; I wanted to see it, and R has been taking her to public places to acclimate her to How We Behave in the library or the grocery store or the museum (quiet voices, hands to ourselves, etc). It's a real hidden gem -- I didn't know it existed until R suggested it, despite my deliberately looking in the area for stuff to do. It has a glass studio and a very lovely collection of glassworks, as well as paintings, sculpture, and historical artefacts; we really only got to see the glass gallery, since getting out the door with a two-year-old took some time, but it was worth going just for that, and admission was free. (I did get to peer into the ancient art while R took U to the bathroom.)

I was disappointed that the gift shop didn't have any postcards of any of their glass, which is kind of their pride and joy, but I think perhaps the glass studio has a gift shop and that's where they keep them. In any case, good excuse to go back. :)

R had dressed U in a pink ballerina dress, so she went through the gallery pointing out everything that was "Pink like me!" and then became fascinated by one of the postcards they DID have, which was one of Degas' ballerina paintings. I asked if R had any plans to put her in dance classes since she loves dancing and could use to burn off energy. R, whose grandparents immigrated from Ireland and who took Irish dance as a kid, told me, "Little does she know the Irish Step-Dancing class that awaits her."

[elizabethsnuts]

can you write bucky and nat’s daughter starting ballet class when she’s still very little

Little Ballerina

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky took you to your first ballet lesson.

———

Natasha gently fixed your tiny pink tutu, making sure your hair was all neat. Natasha and Bucky wanted to get you started in ballet early, you loved watching Natasha do it and would always try and copy her.

Natasha grinned and stepped back, taking a second to look at you in your adorable ballet outfit. “Look at you, my little love! You look just like Mama!”

Bucky smiled widely and picked you up, spinning you around. “Look at my little ballerina! You ready for your first class?”

You nodded eagerly and sucked your pacifier, giggling softly as both Natasha and Bucky complimented you. “Ballerina.”

Natasha nodded and kissed your little cheek, grabbing your tiny ballet shoes. “That’s right, Y/N! You are a ballerina! You’re so adorable.”

You sat down on the floor as Natasha crouched down in front of you, helping you put your ballet shoes on your tiny feet. You were so impatient, you just wanted to start dancing already. “Dance like Mama.”

Natasha chuckled, tying your ballet shoes. “You definitely are going to dance just like Mama! You’re going to be a natural just like me.”

Eventually, you were ready to go, Natasha and Bucky obviously stayed to watch your class. You toddled over to your parents and smiled. “Mama, Daddy, watch.”

Natasha chuckled and nodded, kissing your forehead. “We’re watching, sweetheart!”

Bucky nodded in agreement and tickled you slightly, causing you to let out a giggle. “We are going to be watching the whole time, baby doll.”

You giggled again and toddled back over to the ballet teachers and other little toddlers who were in the class. You were eagerly showing your teacher your pointed toes, you had been practising them a lot with Natasha.

The teacher smiled and gave you a fairy clap. “Look at your pointed toes, Y/N! You must have been practising before you got here.”

You nodded and grinned, pointing your tiny toes again. “With Mama. Ballerina.”

The teacher chuckled, nodding her head in amusement. She was actually pretty impressed with your pointed toes. “Your Mama must be a very good teacher then because those are some of the most perfect pointed toes I’ve seen!”

You were having tons of fun in your class, even chatting with the other little girls there. You were currently sitting on the floor with a girl, showing her your pointed toes. “See, point.”

The girl nodded slowly and arched her foot. “Point.”

You nodded in agreement, although you knew your pointed toes were better. “Practice.”

There was a point in the class where the other mums were able to join in with the class, helping their daughters with ballet. Natasha had your tiny hands in hers, putting them over your little head. “Step… step… good girl! You’re doing such a good job, N/N!”

Your giggles were contagious, you were having the time of your life. You kept your tiny arms over your head and took small steps like Natasha said. “Ballerina.”

Natasha nodded and smiled, continuing to guide you with the dancing. “Such a perfect little ballerina.”

Bucky was busy trying to take videos from the side, it was your first ballet lesson so he was trying to capture as much as possible. He wanted to keep this mother-daughter moment forever.

The ballet lesson was just as exciting as you had made it out to be, you were finally learning to be a ballerina just like her mama and Natasha couldn’t have been more proud. You were the light of her life, she loved that you wanted to do ballet just like she did. You’d always be her little ballerina.

[angrythingstarlight]

Was Bee nervous about her first day of preschool, or even her first ballet lesson? Or was she excited for both?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

WC: Drabble.

AN: Part of the Bumblebee series.

The Art in Motion dance studio is highly recommended. Exclusive. Private.

The small building is tucked away behind a couple larger businesses. It's easy to overlook unless you're looking for it. Once you find though, it's hard to miss the inviting sign with the name painted on it in a swirl of pinks and purples. Floor-to-ceiling windows decorated with cartoon ballerinas flank the double doors. Soft music filters through an open window along overlapping conversations.

As you walk up the flower-lined path to the entrance, you smile down at your toddler. Her wide eyes taking the world around her before settling on the window. A small group of girls a little older than Bee are dressed in pink tutus prance around the room while their teacher looks on.

You're almost at the door when Bee wraps her arms around your leg. "Mommy," she whispers, her cheek pressing into your calf.

"Yes?"

Her eyes locked on the girls now dropping to the ground with varying dramatic flairs. "I needs to go to my office. I think I forgots something."

It's rare to hear a nervous tremble in her usually bright voice. Your heart lurches in your chest and you crouch down to her level. "How about we go to your office after we see your class?"

Her brows furrow and her gaze drops. She mumbles so softly you can't hear her, raising one little shoulder. Her bottom lip forming the slightest pout.

"What's wrong, Bee?" You ask, taking her face in your hands, you smile gently when she glances up at you.

"I jus' wanna go to my office. Or we—we can go to your office mommy and I can helps you with work."

You remember the day she started pre-school, she was so excited, practically dancing in the car on the ride over, hopping up the stairs and chattering away until she was standing outside the room, suddenly so nervous and scared that Bucky almost took her back home.

You convinced both of them to let her stay at least an hour. If she absolutely hated it, she could go home. You were banking on her sweet, outgoing personality to override her nerves.

You were right.

Within ten minutes, Bee had become friends with several of her classmates including Frankie.

You thought she might have the same reaction starting dance school so this time you arranged for her to tour the place before her first class.

"How about we go inside and take a look around? We can see your classroom and meet your teacher so we can be ready for your first day. And after we're all done, we can go to your office and tell your papa how brave you were," you offer with a reassuring grin, taking her hands in yours. "I'll be right here the whole time."

You can tell she's mulling over your words, her eyes shifting between you and the building. And you can tell the second she makes up her mind. Bee trusts you more than anything. As worried as she is about trying something new, she already feels braver with you holding her hand. "Okay mommy."

"We're going to have so much fun."

You both look up as the doors open and a tall, graceful woman steps out, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

"Welcome to the Art in Motion studio. We've been waiting for you."

[padmesweetheart]

Tiny Dancers, Growing Hearts

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff / Slow Romance

Summary: When two little girls in pink tutus become inseparable at ballet class, their single parents are drawn together too. Amid small talk, coffee runs, and shared laughter, Hayden finds himself falling for the woman whose daughter twirls beside his own.

You weren’t expecting much from ballet class.

It was a simple Saturday morning thing—a way for your daughter to burn off some of that seemingly endless energy, and maybe give you a moment to breathe. You’d even brought your coffee in one of those extra-large thermoses that practically doubled as a weapon, anticipating a dull wait in the back corner of the dance studio.

What you weren’t expecting was him.

At first, you only noticed because your daughter gravitated toward his. Two tiny pink blurs, giggling and holding hands before class even started. And then you looked up. He was leaning casually against the wall, baseball cap low, arms folded, quiet but clearly watching the girls with a soft sort of pride in his eyes.

He was… familiar. But it didn’t quite hit you until he turned slightly and smiled at something his daughter said.

Hayden Christensen.

That Hayden Christensen.

You blinked, doing a double take—but he didn’t seem to notice your surprise. Or if he did, he was used to it. He was dressed like any other dad: hoodie, jeans, sneakers. Just another parent at ballet, trying to keep up.

The next week, it was the girls again—racing toward each other like they’d been separated for years instead of six days. And that time, he spoke first.

“She’s really taken a liking to yours,” he said, nodding toward the two of them as they began spinning in circles together like dizzy tops.

You smiled, a little shy but warm. “Yeah, mine’s talked about ballet non-stop since last week. I think your daughter might be the main reason.”

He chuckled, soft and genuine. “Same here. I guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

You ended up sitting beside him on the bench that morning. Just a bit of small talk, nothing fancy. He was gentle, soft-spoken, and quick to laugh in that quiet way that felt… rare. He didn’t seem to care if you knew who he was. He was just Hayden. A dad, like you were a mom. Two parents, watching two little ballerinas create their own whirlwind of joy.

————————

Weeks passed, and ballet Saturdays became routine. The girls were inseparable, always requesting matching buns, matching tutus, matching everything. And you and Hayden?

Somehow, without either of you meaning to, your chats became something else.

He’d bring you coffee some mornings, remembering how you liked it after just one mention. You’d bring him muffins the week after, teasing him about being too skinny for someone who claimed to “live for breakfast carbs.”

There were laughs. Jokes. Shared looks over the chaos of post-class toddler energy. And when one of the girls fell during practice and burst into tears, you both jumped up at the same time, bumping shoulders in your rush to comfort them. He looked at you then, eyes lingering just a second too long, and you felt your breath catch.

——————

One day, after class, the girls begged for a park trip. You all went—no hesitation. You sat on the swings beside each other, watching as they chased each other in circles under the sun.

“I didn’t expect this,” he said softly. You turned to him, raising a brow. “I mean, ballet class. This whole thing. Meeting someone like you.”

Your heart did a little flip. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Same.”

He glanced at you, a little nervous, but hopeful. “Do you think… maybe sometime, when it’s not ballet day, we could grab dinner? Just us?”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “I’d like that.”

———————

From there, it was soft and slow—like the gentle rhythm of the music the girls danced to. Not rushed. Not loud. Just a growing tenderness between two people who’d built something real in the quiet corners of a ballet studio.

Sometimes you’d catch him watching you when you weren’t looking, his eyes soft, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. And when he finally kissed you, it was after another Saturday class, while the girls shared a juice box on the bench.

He didn’t say anything—just stepped a little closer, eyes searching yours, and leaned in. It was a gentle kiss. Careful. Warm. Like everything else with him.

And as your daughters giggled behind you, arms tangled in the bond only tiny best friends could understand, you felt something settle in your heart. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the beginning of something temporary.

It was the start of something beautiful.

@skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld @endairachristensen26 @bxbyysstuff @inlovewithallmusic

[michysims]

Ballerina Studios

This is a studio for ballet class some cc its included

CC not included list

1. Syboulette- Ballet part 1 and 2 https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-sets/title/ballet-set-part-1/id/1549450/

-Babygyal123 - The balance collection

https://www.patreon.com/posts/balance-88377354

-Anye - Coffeeshop

https://www.patreon.com/posts/coffeeshop-53132461

-Pandasama - Toddler drawing supply

https://www.patreon.com/posts/toddler-pack-52862857

-Pierisim - The office

https://www.patreon.com/posts/office-download-49574776

-Charly pancakes - Smol (just one print)

https://www.patreon.com/posts/smol-stuff-pack-52884498

-Pierisim - Teeny Weeny (diapers clutter) and TILABLE Kitchen ( just the counters)

https://www.patreon.com/posts/teeny-weeny-81561105

https://www.patreon.com/posts/tilable-kitchen-84580010

-House of Harlix - Baysic Bathroom (only trash can and toilet brush) and Harluxe (just the AC control)

https://www.houseofharlix.com/baysic-bathroom

https://www.houseofharlix.com/harluxe

-Mercuryfoam - Ballet Barre Mod (MUST NEED IT SO YOUR SIMS CAN PRACTICE BALLET)

https://www.patreon.com/posts/sims-4-ballet-63698473

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF SOMETING IS NOT WORKING OR MISSING IM NOT USED TO SHARE FILES (still learning)

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> chapter 2

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note: if you want to be in the taglist comment it or send me a message & and i hope you like it

Chapter Warnings: bullying (mean comments, self doubt...)

One sunny afternoon, Yn's mother, Pascale, noticed her daughter dancing around the living room, mimicking the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Yn's eyes lit up with excitement as she tried to mimic the ballerinas she saw on a children's show. Observing her daughter's genuine interest, Pascale decided to enroll Yn in toddler ballet classes, hoping it would be an enjoyable experience for the young girl.

Excitedly, Yn attended her first ballet class with a heart full of enthusiasm. As she stepped into the dance studio, she noticed a group of girls already practicing their pliés and twirls. They appeared like little princesses, dressed in their pink tutus and ballet shoes, moving with elegance and grace.

As the class began, Yn tried her best to mimic the graceful movements of her instructor. However, she was a bit clumsy, often stumbling and losing her balance. Her tiny legs would wobble, and her coordination seemed far from perfect.

"Regardez-la ! Elle est maladroite !" (Look at her! She's so clumsy!) giggled one of the girls named Isabelle, pointing at Yn as they practiced their pliés.

"Oui, c'est vrai ! Elle danse comme un canard !" (Yes, that's true! She dances like a duck!) chimed in another girl, Elise.

The other girls joined in, mocking Yn's efforts and whispering behind her back. Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she tried her best to ignore their hurtful remarks.

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As weeks passed, the situation at ballet class only worsened for Yn. The other girls excluded her from their little circle, leaving her feeling isolated and disheartened. Yet, she never let her spirit be completely crushed. She persevered and practiced in hopes of getting better

Yn's teacher, Madame Dupont, noticed the unpleasant behavior of the other girls after some days and intervened immediately. "Arrêtez ça tout de suite, les filles !" (Stop that right now, girls!) she scolded them firmly, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Madame Dupont then knelt down beside Yn, offering a warm smile that reassured the little girl. "Tu es une danseuse merveilleuse, Yn. Ne les écoute pas. Continue de faire de ton mieux, et tu seras une ballerine éblouissante !" (You are a wonderful dancer, Yn. Don't listen to them. Keep doing your best, and you will be a dazzling ballerina!)

Yn nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Madame Dupont's kind words gave her the courage to push through the obstacles and embrace her love for dance wholeheartedly.

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The situation wasn't much different when they started kindergarten. Charles's outgoing personality allowed him to form bonds with his classmates effortlessly. He was blissfully unaware that his popularity overshadowed Yn's presence in school

They remarked, "Pourquoi elle est toujours seule?" (Why is she always alone?) The words were like daggers to Yn's heart, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Je ne sais pas, peut-être qu'elle est bizarre." (I don't know, maybe she's weird) another kid said, and Yn's heart sank, and tears welled up in her eyes as she heard the cruel remarks. But the most hurtful comment came unexpectedly from Charles himself, who, without realizing the impact of his words, said, "Elle ne sait même pas comment se faire des amis!" (She doesn't even know how to make friends!)

For two long months, Yn endured the feeling of loneliness at school, while Charles remained blissfully ignorant of her turmoil. He spent his days laughing and playing, oblivious to the storm that brewed in his sister's heart. It reached a tipping point when one day, she couldn't bear it any longer.

That evening, at home, Yn mustered up the courage to confront Charles about her feelings. "Charles, pourquoi tu ne joues jamais avec moi à l'école ?" (Charles, why don't you ever play with me at school?) she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

Confused, Charles replied, "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, Yn ? Je joue avec tout le monde. Tu n'es pas exclue." (What do you mean, Yn? I play with everyone. You're not excluded.)

But Yn couldn't hold back her pain any longer. "Tu ne comprends pas, Charles ! Tout le monde se moque de moi et dit des choses méchantes ! Et toi, tu ne fais que me repousser pour être avec tes amis ! Tu ne te soucies même pas de moi !" (You don't understand, Charles! Everyone makes fun of me and says mean things! And you, you just push me away to be with your friends! You don't even care about me!)

Charles was taken aback by Yn's outburst. He hadn't realized the impact of his actions on his sister. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas. J'étais égoïste, tellement heureux d'avoir autant d'amis, je n'ai pas réalisé que je te faisais du mal." (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know. I was selfish, so happy to have so many friends, I didn't realize I was hurting you.)

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Yn continued, "Les autres enfants se moquent de moi parce que je suis timide. Ils disent que je suis ennuyeuse et que je ne devrais pas être ta sœur." (The other kids make fun of me because I'm shy. They say I'm boring and that I shouldn't be your sister.)

Charles felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so caught up in his own happiness that he had failed to see the pain his sister was going through. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je promets de faire plus attention et d'être là pour toi à l'école et je vais t'aider à te faire des amis" (I'm sorry, Yn. I promise to pay more attention and be there for you at school and I'll help you make friends)

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude as Charles embraced her. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games. Slowly but surely, Yn started to feel like she belonged

That evening, Charles went to their parents and confessed his mistakes. "J'ai été égoïste, maman, papa. J'ai blessé Yn. Je veux être puni." (I've been selfish, Mom, Dad. I hurt Yn. I want to be punished)

Their parents, understanding the importance of this learning experience, instead chose to teach their children a valuable lesson. "Ce n'est jamais trop tard pour faire mieux, Charles. Sois simplement là pour ta sœur." (It's never too late to do better, Charles. Just be there for your sister)

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From that moment on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games, and they patiently encouraged her to open up. Slowly, Yn began to feel more at ease, and she found herself making connections with her peers. The other children soon discovered that beneath her shyness and clumsiness, Yn was a kind and caring friend. 

However, Yn's struggles continued in her ballet school. The girls there couldn't resist being envious of her natural grace and elegance, so they decided to ridicule her, hoping to dent her confidence. "Tu ne seras jamais aussi bonne que nous, Yn. Arrête d'essayer!" (You'll never be as good as us, Yn. Stop trying!) they jeered

"Elle n'a aucune grâce !" (She has no grace!), another girl sneered

"Pourquoi est-elle même ici ? Elle n'est pas faite pour la danse." (Why is she even here? She's not meant for dance)

Yn's determination, however, only grew stronger. She spent hours practicing, trying to prove to herself and her detractors that she deserved to be there. She practiced so much that her technique improved drastically, but the emotional toll was immense.

The insults and taunts persisted, but Yn learned to shield herself from the negativity. She danced with passion and determination, ignoring the jealous whispers around her. As time went on, her ballet form improved, and she found solace in the art form she loved.

taglist: @love4lando @celesteblack08 @gcldtom

the divider is from the incredible @reveriesources

[chxnelsims]

Little things make for big days 🎀

Dahlia and all of her mom friends (besides Wyatt) decided to check out the new Mommy & Me Class for infants and toddlers!

[slytherinshalo]

𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍, treat me like a queen

𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎, Arian Cain and Nila Cain(née Jones) in 1949 the second born child, eldest daughter of four other siblings. She was a healthy baby, who came easily and loudly.

𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐒𝐀, began to crawl, walk and talk earlier than other kids her age. By the toddler stage she was talking in full sentences, reading and writing. As she grew she played piano, did ballet and was an astounding artist.

𝐀��� 𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒, lyssa was sorted into slytherin, she meets her friends, and future husband. Lyssa was at the top of her year, gets ‘O’s on all her assignments, never voicing her intelligence only showing it, she was an excellent ballerina, always getting praise from her peers and teacher. During her free time she would draw, paint, sculpt ect.

During her 5th year at Hogwarts she and Abraxas Malfoy began dating, he treated her like a queen, caring her things, walking her to all her classes, taking her one dates, even taking care of her after ballet class or when she was sick. On the night of yule ball during 7th year Abraxas proposed to Lyssa.

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒, Lyssa and Abraxas married, a few years later in 1979 Lyssa gave birth to her son Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. As they raised their son they taught him to respect women, not to exclude others for their blood status, and uphold the Malfoy family values and image.

© 𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[maxinepixels]

life changes ⏳

After finding out they were pregnant again, Aubree and Max hosted a small gender reveal party at her mom, Naomi's, house. They were so happy to find out that they were having a boy! The perfect family, one girl and one boy. Aubree's pregnancy went by very smoothly and she gave birth to her son, Atlas Villareal. He's so freaking cute! For the last few months, they have been looking for a family home because their high-rise apartment is becoming crowded.

Now that their child has been born, Max and Aubree have gotten back to focusing on themselves a bit. Getting back to their normal workout routines has felt refreshing after being in the house for weeks with a newborn and a toddler. Being that Max works in the fitness/health field, he has made both of them a workout plan to stick to.

Over in Brindleton Bay, Tyrese's kids have picked up some new hobbies. Ashley has started ballet and girl scouts. Her instructor believes she is a natural ballerina and loves having her in class. This information was surprising for Tyrese because she is a total terror at home. This girl literally has the mean trait and has difficult dynamics with most of her siblings. On the other hand, Ivy begged her dad for a styling chair so that she can start doing other people's hair. Her siblings are often guinea pigs for practicing her skills. However, she's getting quite good. I think after high school, I'm going to have her open a salon. Forrest has joined the swim team at Copperdale High. Sorry I don't have any pics for that.

Olivia Rae has been in pure mommy mode for years and has lost focus on herself. She loves her children, but this was never the plan for her life. She has four toddlers in her household right now. Her kids age from oldest to youngest: 4, 3, 2 + Duane's child he had outside of the relationship. I'm tired lol. Olivia Rae enrolled in Nursing school, based on her few university credits and graduating from high school with honors. She feels like her original dreams of becoming an actress are no longer going to happen, so she decided to help others instead. Also, being a mom of four and the eldest daughter, she has a natural nurturing essence about her. Recently, she passed her final nursing exam and is now doing clinicals at the hospital.

Aside from school, Olivia Rae has also decided to take control of her health and start working out again. Her cousin, Aubree, has been motivating her a lot to go to the gym as well. So far, Olivia Rae has been able to lose 50 lbs. She also wanted to lose weight with a special day in mind.

On a very warm summer day, Duane and Olivia Rae got married! Their budget was tight, so they rented decor to set up in their backyard. Olivia's grandfather, Arnold, officiated the wedding being that he is a pastor. Her father walked her down the aisle as well. The whole family was able to come and enjoy the wedding and the after party. This game is so broken, the wedding was actually a mess but I digress. Olivia Rae Brown is now officially; Olivia Rae Talla!

[loversfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed apollo fairbanks walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who he is ? they kind of look like charles melton and i could be wrong but i think that they might be thirty years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last one year. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of anthony bridgerton from bridgerton. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working as a dance teacher / professional dancer. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the opaque of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty arrogant at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty dutiful to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that two bedroom apartment beside me over in mango bay. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

STATS:

full name :       apollo christopher fairbanks nickname(s) :       n / a birthplace :       seattle, washington date of birth :       07 / 31 / 1994 parentage :       song na-ri & christopher fairbanks sibling(s) :       ____ fairbanks (25) , alanna fairbanks (23) , angelina fairbanks (20) relationship status :       single gender identity :       cis man ( he/him ) sexual orientation :       heterosexual faceclaim :       charles melton

BACKGROUND: (tw: emotional abuse)

song na-ri was a highly appraised ballerina with lots of promise. she was paving the way for asian / korean dancers in an anglo - centric setting, while also doing something she loved. there was nothing she was more passionate about than ballet. which is why it was such a shock to everyone when she got pregnant at twenty - two.

there  was only one thing that could take na-ri’s mind off of dance, and that was the one and only CHRISTOPHER FAIRBANKS. only two years older and not into ballet whatsoever, na-ri saw something in him she had never found elsewhere.

na-ri was twenty - three when she gave birth to her son. the second she laid eyes on him, she could see the resemblance to christopher. the name APOLLO came quickly to her. the god of music and dance.

unfortunately, christopher was not there for the birth of his son. na-ri wanted to make it work, but christopher insisted he had his whole life ahead of him. he couldn’t be tied down to a family this early in life.

growing up, apollo was never in control of anything in his life. living with just his mother, it only made sense he became a MOMMA’S BOY. however, this was only the start of his troubles.

as soon as apollo could walk, his mother tried to teach him beginner ballet moves. the attention span of a toddler is not great, so it wasn’t a perfect plan. still, she persisted. she wanted apollo to be ahead of the game when she finally was able to enroll him in proper classes at the age of four.

as a child, apollo would do anything to spend time with his mother and make her happy. she always promised a break after practicing dance for hours, and they would do something he wanted during that break. unfortunately, those breaks never came and the training had to come to an end when apollo would get upset or antsy.

when you’re five, there’s no real pressure to do anything. it was just annoying to dedicate so much time to something he had no interest in. however, when you’re seven and your mother starts telling you she threw her whole career away just to have you… there’s a bit more pressure to continue dancing .

it was a sentiment he heard his whole life. ❝ GETTING PREGNANT WITH YOU RUINED MY CAREER. I GAVE UP MY CAREER TO RAISE YOU. I LOST THE BEST MAN BECAUSE I DECIDED TO KEEP YOU. ❞ apollo no longer felt like an individual, but more like a puppet or a pawn in a game he was unaware he was playing. his mother had planned his whole life, and there was nothing he could do about it.

funnily enough, apollo was not an only child. his father made three appearances in his life, each ending up bringing apollo a sister about a year later. being the oldest and only boy still brought immense pressure into his life. he was now forced to dance for hours and hours on end, as well as tend to his little sisters due to his mother’s exhaustion after his ballet classes.

when he was ten, his mother began insisting they dance together. he didn’t mind it too much, in fact, he kind of thought it was fun. it was hard for his mother to criticize his movements if she was too focused on her own.

this continued for a few years, but apollo grew more and more tired of it as the years went on. plus, if anyone caught wind of it, it would be absolutely EMBARRASSING.

at the age of fifteen, apollo finally put his foot down. he’d never stood up to his mother before, and he was definitely trembling at the mere thought of it. he knew how much his dancing meant to his mother, so he promised to continue under one condition. NO MORE DANCING TOGETHER.

na-ri tried to pull her usual i gave everything up for you, the least you could do is allow me to dance. still, he refused to back down. she could dance all she wants, just not with him. or he’d be prepared to throw it all away. it was a long argument, but eventually his mother backed down. she couldn’t risk him throwing in the towel.

life for apollo could be lonely. he would talk to people at school sometimes, but nothing ever came from it. it wasn't like he had time to see them outside of school hours. besides, he couldn't imagine what the public perception would be if they found out he was a male ballet dancer.

he had friends he made in ballet, but there was always a bitter taste to them. could they be great people? sure. but apollo met them through the hobby he was slowly growing to despise.

besides that, apollo had grown quite an ego when it came to dancing, which could make him hard to be around. his mother was practically a prodigy who put all her time and energy into him. and, although he didn't enjoy ballet, he was damn good at it.

apollo begrudgingly continued dance. not for his mom ( he moved out the moment he turned eighteen ) but because he had nothing else to show for himself. he never did well academically, because his mother always taught him to put schoolwork on the backburner. college didn’t seem like an option because of that. the only way he knew how to stay afloat was to continue with dance.

the few relationships he's been in have all been with other dancers, and have all been pretty surface level. an inability to open up on his emotions made for a very bad conversationalist and he often couldn't step outside of his own head enough to see what his partner may need.

he's been bouncing around dance companies across the country since he turned eighteen. sometimes he'll take a side gig as a dance teacher if he thinks he'll stay in town for more than one season. he can't help it -- when he's teaching a class of young ballerinas, all he can see are his three younger sisters as children.

HEADCANONS / TIDBITS:

knows how to be a gentleman and can go through the motions. hold a door open, pull a chair out, "yes ma'am," "yes sir."

perfect posture

thinks he's too good for a lot of things ( he is not )

thinks he's god's gift to this world and to ballet so he's kind of annoying about it

doesn't talk about ballet so if you aren't connected to him thru it or haven't seen him on any promotional stuff he's probably just very vague about his job lmfao

very season 1 anthony bridgerton the annoying version

vulnerability ahhhhh scary

a real health loser ... gym frequenter ... eats well ... booooo

will secretly partake in a cigarette from time to time but never too frequently because he needs his lungs

©

[copsecore]

Okay what kinda ballerina are we talking

We talking scholarship ballerina?

We talking 14-16 dancer but quit in middle/high school due to conflicts?

We talking took three classes in elementary school and the boys won’t let him live it down?

thank you for asking >:)

im talking toddler ballet

chubby three year old davey shaw in a leotard and plimsoles glaring directly into the lense of a polaroid camera, fists clenched and everything

ya know when people have photos in their wallets? the photo gabe had in his wallet was that photo

frank insisted on getting him a tutu for his fourth birthday even tho he only took the classes for a few months (david still has it)

[petalsfm]

if you’re hearing 1 LAST CIGARETTE by THE BAND CAMINO playing, you have to know ACHILLES FAVREAU (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the THIRTY-ONE year old STEP CLASS INSTRUCTOR has been in denver for, like, THREE YEARS. they’re known to be quite RESENTFUL, but being DUTIFUL seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble DREW RAY TANNER. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those SMELL OF LAUNDRY DETERGENT TO COVER UP THE SMELL OF SWEAT THAT JUST WON’T WASH OUT, A HANDSOME BUT INCREDIBLY FAKE SMILE, A SIGNATURE " YES MA'AM " AND " NO SIR ", THE FEELING YOU'LL NEVER BE FREE, THE URGE TO DISAPPEAR AND GO OFF THE GRID vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the WASHINGTON PARK DISTRICT long enough!

STATS:

full name :       achilles charles favreau

nickname(s) :     n / a

birthplace :      seattle, washington

date of birth :       11 / 20 / 1991

parentage :      huang mei & charles favreau

sibling(s) :      angelica favreau (24) , aurora favreau (20) , arianna favreau (16)

relationship status :     single

gender identity :     cis man ( he/him )

sexual orientation :      heterosexual

faceclaim :      drew ray tanner

BACKGROUND: (tw: emotional abuse)

huang mei was a highly appraised ballerina with lots of promise. she was paving the way for asian / chinese dancers in an anglo - centric setting, while also doing something she loved. there was nothing she was more passionate about than ballet. which is why it was such a shock to everyone when she became pregnant at twenty - two.

there  was only one thing that could take mei's mind off of dance, and that was the one and only CHARLES FAVREAU. only two years older and not into ballet whatsoever, mei saw something in him she had never found elsewhere.

mei was twenty - three when she gave birth to her son. the second she laid eyes on him, she could see the resemblance to charles. the name ACHILLES came quickly to her. charles had always been her achilles heel, so it only seemed right to name the product of their relationship as such.

unfortunately, charles was not there for the birth of his son. mei wanted to make it work, but charles insisted he had his whole life ahead of him. he couldn't be tied down to a family this early in life.

growing up, achilles was never in control of anything in his life. living with just his mother, it only made sense he became a MOMMA'S BOY. however, this was only the start of his troubles.

as soon as achilles could walk, his mother tried to teach him beginner ballet moves. the attention span of a toddler is not great, so it wasn't a perfect plan. still, she persisted. she wanted achilles to be ahead of the game when she finally was able to enroll him in proper classes at the age of four.

as a child, achilles would do anything to spend time with his mother and make her happy. she always promised a break after practicing dance for hours, and they would do something he wanted during that break. unfortunately, those breaks never came and the training had to come to an end when achilles would get upset or antsy.

when you're five, there's no real pressure to do anything. it was just annoying to dedicate so much time to something he had no interest in. however, when you're seven and your mother starts telling you she threw her whole career away just to have you... there's a bit more pressure to continue dancing .

it was a sentiment he heard his whole life. GETTING PREGNANT WITH YOU RUINED MY CAREER. I GAVE UP MY CAREER TO RAISE YOU. I LOST THE BEST MAN BECAUSE I DECIDED TO KEEP YOU. achilles no longer felt like an individual, but more like a puppet or a pawn in a game he was unaware he was playing. his mother had planned his whole life, and there was nothing he could do about it.

funnily enough, achilles was not an only child. his father made three appearances in his life, each ending up bringing achilles a sister about a year later. being the oldest and only boy still brought immense pressure into his life. he was now forced to dance for hours and hours on end, as well as tend to his little sisters due to his mother's exhaustion after his ballet classes.

when he was ten, his mother began insisting they dance together. he didn't mind it too much, in fact, he kind of thought it was fun. it was hard for his mother to criticize his movements if she was too focused on her own.

this continued for a few years, but achilles grew more and more tired of it as the years went on. plus, if anyone caught wind of it, it would be absolutely EMBARRASSING.

at the age of fifteen, achilles finally put his foot down. he'd never stood up to his mother before, and he was definitely trembling at the mere thought of it. he knew how much his dancing meant to his mother, so he promised to continue under one condition. NO MORE DANCING TOGETHER.

mei tried to pull her usual i gave everything up for you, the least you could do is allow me to dance. still, he refused to back down. she could dance all she wants, just not with him. or he'd be prepared to throw it all away. it was a long argument, but eventually his mother backed down. she couldn't risk him throwing in the towel.

achilles begrudgingly continued dance for the next decade. not for his mom ( he moved out the moment he turned eighteen ) but because he had nothing else to show for himself. he never did well academically, because his mother always taught him to put schoolwork on the backburner. college didn't seem like an option because of that. the only way he knew how to stay afloat was to continue with dance.

he was twenty-eight when he somehow stumbled into denver. it wasn’t totally by accident. he needs to get out of washington, but he can’t make a DRASTIC change. the weather is similar, it’s a good distance from his mother, and weed is legal.

soooooooo as of rn he’s currently trying to unwind !! he’s been tightly wound all his life, so he’s always grumpy for no reason. doesn’t know how to have fun!!!!! booooo boring

[chimsmom1013]

On Ballet, PJM's thighs 🤭, Gender Norms, Society, and Parenting Teens...when insomnia plays you like a plague.

Four in the morning and I'm in my walrus form...rolling on the bed like it'll help shut down my brain, until this walrus decided to give up and get up. Welcome to today's insomnia episode feat. me and my attempt to write/blog again.

It's on nights, rather early dawns, like these where my mind ponders on the mundane things in life...like where the hell is Min Yoongi?...Lol! Is slime liquid? Is water wet? Silly questions until the most precious nerds in my life go on a full scientific debate on these (true story). Today was me scouting frames online for my kids' ballet recital pics. I was being a cheesy mom admiring with googly eyes, my children's photos until I was "mom mode no more" when the quads my not so little boy's ballet tights were showcasing caught my attention...and I went *😳* my boy's really starting to morph into pre-debut PJM (Jimin's thighs for President! woot! woot!😂)

It's been over a year since my children decided to "formally" learn ballet. My eldest would be considered late to the game at 16 as most ballerinas start tippy toeing garbed in pink tutus as early as three; she though, has always had an eye for the arts. As a little girl I remember her craning her neck to the other toddlers who were attending the ballet classes held on the second level of the local grocery we used to frequent in QC. She never really says anything, she just watches and stares at the cute girls her age in tutus with her big bright eyes; meanwhile the dense, sleep deprived, mother *c'est moi* never paid it much thought, my last braincells running on the remaining 10 mg of caffeine and whatever nicotine poison was still lingering in my bloodstream. A walking zombie on auto pilot trying to get my errands done so I can hit the sack, wake up to the moon and live life as part of the vampires toiling the night shifts. This was 2010.

Fast forward to the pandemic era when we all got sucked into the purple rabbit hole *another story for another day* and count 2 more years of my whole fam being fans of a particular kid from Busan, SoKor who studied Modern Dance in an Arts School (before an Army gets the wrong idea, we're OT7, just putting that out)  and you see me enrolling my children in their first ballet class.

I will spare you the details of how this debacle gave rise to the Kraken that, unbeknownst to la maman, actually lives inside my sweet, darling girl (segway...you know those moments when you look at your child and say, I can't see any of me in her *of which you're mighty glad* then BOOM! Yep there it is, that's definitely me right there. I had that scene play in front of me in 4HD...end of segway). Now despite being a bit relieved in discovering that she actually had this side - when the need calls for it - I knew the crowd that triggered it wasn't healthy for them anymore. I pulled them out of that place in a snap. It was just a summer thing after all, it was just me letting them dip their toes into ballet because we were PJM stans, it was ever really just that - haha! NOT! As I witnessed my daughter's demeanor turn a full 360° because some kids thought it was a good idea to mess with her brother...to which of course they were wrong. I thought that exiting them out of that cesspool was the "parent thing to do'' and that-that experience eventually pulled the lights out on their, "what I initially assumed only as", fangirling/boying fascination for ballet, but like those silly kids who ate the bars that were spat out my daughter's angry mouth for afternoon tea- of course I TOO WAS WRONG.

My then 12yr old son was crying his eyes out, feelings of disgust, betrayal, self-doubt, anger, self-doubt again doused him like an August monsoon, bouts of nausea and a slight fever followed thereafter. It was a sight any mother would demand someone's head for *ofc I'm being exaggeratedly dramatic but you get my point*. I could have *metaphorically* dragged someone by the hair for it, I knew I was entitled to that -we had receipts. But as much as I love my boy, he is THAT- a BOY, biologically assigned male at birth who'll soon turn into a MAN. He needed to learn from this, know how to profile people. Learn the consequences of being naive and gullible, understand the inevitable outcome of what you're getting yourself into. The little vixen was no Taylor Swift and my son is absolutefanfucktabously NOT her John Mayer. Society, however, in this province that is, wouldn't, even at this present day & age, agree with me.  Petite, pretty, doe-eyed, damsel type girls will always bag the biggest crowd. He needed to understand this, cuddling and soothing him would be second nature to any mother, but I would like to think I knew better. So that was that or so I thought. We can go back to baking giant cookies, mocking the diabetes curse that ran in our genes, but my son wanted to write a different ending to this chapter and start a new one. So with eyes puffy and tears endlessly falling; nose so red Rudolf would've been threatened, speech garbled from sobbing and the urge to not ingest his snot *graphic ain't I?* he let out a phrase that left me momentarily stunted. "But Mommy, I really wanna dance ballet". I was silent as my incoherent son tried to get his message to my skull. I watched his beautiful face being aggressively rubbed with the collar of his shirt by his own hands. Sounds reminiscent of trumpets being blown ensued right after and I thought to myself, "whoa 😧 the laundromat ladies has got work cut out for them" before I snapped out of my momentary Ally McBeal moment and reminded myself that I'm this human's mother.

And so after a financial debrief with the chief of command in my household a.k.a my husband, the hunt was on for a new ballet school that would be willing to take in my then 16 yr old princess and my 12 yr old snot factory of a son *oh shut up, we all have different love languages mine just happens to exclude being a mopey unfunny mother*. I swept through Metaverse overnight and by 9am-ish the next day, I was on the phone with the owner of the Aims Academy School for the Performing Arts formerly known as Arts in Motion Studio *all puns related to "the artist formerly known as Prince" intended tee-hee* with my V8 of a motor mouth ranting at the speed of light. The school's headmistress being the poor soul to become recipient of my motherly verbal diarrhea. A millenia and a half on my verbal rampage on mean girls, my take on the performing arts, my hope that they could consider taking in my 2 dorks and I'm purchasing a ballet barre online... just like that, my 12 yr old son is once again the only ballet student with a third leg in this new school - grateful for this new chapter in their lives.

Has it ever bothered him that he's the only student danseur in ballet school? nah...he was raised a feminist - and by that I don't mean Beyonce and her booty shaking to "Who Run the World? Girls!" I mean, being raised to respect the differences and contribution each biologically assigned sex contributes to humanity, did I phrase that out right? I am honestly too old to delve into the complexities of pronouns and the whole LGBTQrstuv you know the rest of the alphabet. My son understands and respects that you can embrace whatever pronoun you find fits you, yet equally respects that a pea sized pie hole can pop out a human head but the Jr nestled between his quads will never be able to. He understands that we, biologically assigned women at birth, cannot play the game of how many d*cks around a coffee mug can fill it up with pee in 30 secs *no you cannot unread that bwahaha evil laugh* My son understands that colors, fragrance, one's palate has no gender assignment, munching on siling labuyo does not make one MORE male, lmao. He loves playing war games on his pc but cosplays in a Japanese maid costume without a care in the world if some people raise their brows and think that's queer. Most importantly he knows the difference between a hobby and an art form, and that art is gender fluid.

My kids were unfortunately birthed in an obnoxiously patriarchal society that associates sh*t to being male or female. Society expects my daughter to be domesticated, she is, but equally so is my son. If you can't cook, don't eat, if you don't know how to wash your undergarments then by all means itch where it hurts the most. No one dares give an opinion on my son studying to be a danseur, either they actually funnily think it's just a hobby (believe me when I say what an insanely expensive hobby it is then for a middle class household) as I've caught conversations from older male figures subtly hinting at basketball and taekwondo... or they're very much aware that trying to meddle with how I raise my kids is a pretty bad idea, knowing that I am literally able to get away with murder haha.

Let me ramble on this just once...DANCING is NOT merely a HOBBY! PERFORMING ARTS is WHAT it reads as A-R-T! Ballet is not for wimps and girly soft boys, as is with any other artform - it's a DISCIPLINE; an utterly painful one at that. If anyone then, gets the slightest misogynistic itch to poke fun at my boy in tights- try standing on relevé with a steady bras bas for 20 secs then you can talk to me about how pain makes a man a "MAN"...*blows knuckles*.

Some misguided poor souls can cheat their way into academic high honors; some screwed up parents can kiss ass and/or payV the way for their children, but believe me no amount of ass-kissing skills or deep pockets can ever fool a room full of audience into knowing what talent or the absolute lack of it looks like on stage. Not everyone is born with it, and when you see it, you don't call it a "hobby", you call that talent, skills, what you're seeing is an execution of "Art".

The insatiable and savage thirst for raising ruthless fighting cocks for merciless cockpit battles is what I can call an example of a "hobby" - a gruesomely barbaric one at that but absurdly regarded as Ultra Male — not a skill, definitely not a talent and watching two rooster try to unalive each other will never be a form of Art. I object -  admiration for the showcase violence is not manly, on the contrary it defies all that nature intended the male species to be...the supposed caretaker and nurturer of all things created by the Almighty. 

My children were sadly born into a society that sees ART as a hobby and the belief that one's only gateway to a stable meal ticket is through the traditional academe. Where grades define them and their peers parents' brag about them like trophies with necks clad in metal you can't even pawn for a cent; and while me and the hubs have hardcoded the importance of school and the sometimes absurd rules of society to our kids' psyche - that a good college degree is still their gate pass to a stable future, we keep them grounded and sane by reiterating that reciting Newton's Law will not help you cook an egg. Life skills are just as important. Social skills, street smarts and most of all empathy, compassion, and kindness are what make you human. No, we are not the type of absurdly idealistic, incel, "stoned hippie-like" parents that teach our children to blame the gov't for our effed up lives or blind them with the idea that politics is divided into black & white. We don't romanticize poverty and tell our children that money isn't the most important thing in the world- eros LOVE is (oh cge shutamez, kumain ka ng pagmamahal tignan ko kung mabusog ka sa kaka-bebetaym haha). NO! we actually tell them that in the hierarchy of things to help you survive, it is next to oxygen. Money can be both a blessing and a curse, you need it but don't be obsessed with it. Recognize the power it holds, respect that to a certain degree but never be a slave to it. Be wary of how people act around money. Do not classify people according to their lack and excess of it, and equally stay away from those who would do just that to you. Work Hard/Play Hard. Be kind to yourself. Pat yourself on the back for a job well done. Recognize and humble yourselves when you realize you're at fault. Learn from mistakes and learn to forgive mistakes and never wallow in them. Try to always see the good in humans. In this cruel world, it will be the only thing that keeps you from being part of a herd made up of bad sheep that despite having a shepherd and being surrounded by a fence, still always think that everyone around them are predators (the disgusting mentality na kala mo laging iisahan, dadayain at lalamangan, these are the worst people to trust as you will never have theirs). Be careful of those who believe that in order to survive, the best mantra to live by was coined by Machiavelli. School, at some point, will teach you the idea of Utopia; tell you what it looks like, explain to you the do's and don'ts and make you think you're it's future hope as long as you keep the black from bleeding into the white. When you get out in the real world though you'll realize that Utopia is a unicorn. The great Kim Namjoon once said, "Life is a soup, and I'm a fork", my personal favorite is "Life isn't Burger King, you can't always have it your way."

In a year where people are still at odds as to whether the 1969 moon landing was real, the greatest mystery and challenge is still the perfect formula in raising Gen Z teens. I have yet to figure it out as well. I've once been called to speak on the topic of successful parenting and gladly indulged my audience with what maybe perceived as food for thought; when in truth my anxiety laced brain was just as clueless to what successful parenting really is. I guess people think having well mannered and well behaved kids qualifies me to hold a podium. In reality though; while I'm definitely accountable for their upbringing, I can't take any credit for the humans my children decide to become. They are their own person/s the moment they realize they have the ability to feed themselves with their own cooking that will not have them dying from food poisoning. 

And so with all these letters jumbled to become words, that become sentences and progressed into paragraphs of mundane thoughts that decided to fill insomnia nights instead of being sleep waste products called dreams; I spill my mind into writing, if you can even call this that. Whoever is reading this has been fooled into tagging along a rollercoaster mumble-jumble ride that started with my admittedly disgusting simp/thirst for Park Jimin's thighs, ballet, gender norms, society, and trying to be a passable parent to my teens...like how in the fowcking world did it jump from there to here? Insomnia indeed plays me like a plague.