Signing the girls up for ballet and tap feels like a rite of passage: something every girl should try at least once. N runs upstairs to prepare every week: carefully selecting a leotard (we have way too many thanks to generous cousins) and accessorizing with all the bows and tutus. E dresses resentfully, wails at the uncomfortable tights, and savagely rips a brush through her fine blonde hair while reminding me “NO hair ties.” She has gone to class for over a month and hates it each time, so I finally submitted a cancelation notice for her. I’m sure the day it goes through she’ll decide she likes it after all.
A Pattern of Words 
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