She just ran in circles. It was unabashed joy, twirling the ribbon, wings and tutu a-flutter.
There wasn't any real dancing per se; she is only 2.
At first, she was hesitant and shrieked with unabashed fear, tears streamed down her face. Mama persevered and Beatrice survived the first dance class.
After that, she didn't want to leave.
She lit herself on fire with her own joyful path, bounding through an imaginary sunlight meadow, a moonlit forest.
God bless you, Beatrice. You inspire me to keep bounding.
Watch me burn a path, baby. Daddy loves you.