“Pretty, girls, pretty!!”
I had another tap dancing class. All us “girls” did a slightly better job of not crashing into the wall and into each other than last time. Our teacher, Diane, seemed genuinely delighted by us, no matter how badly we danced. She is the anti-Simon Cowell. Her enthusiasm knows no bounds.
We need to bottle this woman and ship a supply to wherever there is violence and war. Everyone would lay down arms and smile.
I still love the tapping sound. On a bad day, I put on the shoes and tap until I feel better.