Hannah has always been fascinated with ballet. She tells us she wants to be a ”ballet-rina” when she grows up. To demonstrate, she stands on tippy-toes, raises her arms in an arc above her head, and twirls around.

I’ve been promising her since last year that I’d find her a ballet class. I looked into it at the beginning of this year, but the only decent one I could find started at 2pm. I finish work at exactly that time, so that didn’t work. I had a very specific type of class in mind. I didn’t want her to be put under pressure to do exams, or for the class to be too strict. She’s three, for goodness sake. I wanted the class to be fun.

Since starting maternity leave, I’d been meaning to try the 2pm class, just to see whether she would actually take to ballet. If not, we’d give up on the idea. I eventually got round to it two weeks ago.

I tend to compare my children. I know you’re not supposed to, but I can’t help it. James did ballet between the ages of 4 and 5. We decided to enroll him because it was during crèche hours and it was very laid-back. It turned out that he was extremely self-conscious. I would never have dreamed that such a young child could be so aware of his body and conscious of what people think, but that’s exactly what James was like. He seemed to enjoy the time with his friends, but what he got out of it is a mystery. His movements, when he actually made any, were stilted and self-conscious.

Hannah is completely different. She loves to greet complete strangers and watch for their reaction. She loves singing and dancing and making people laugh. She runs away from us any chance she gets. In a word, she’s fearless.

When I took her to her first ballet class, I was amazed by her. She marched into the class, held hands with her friend and joined in like she’d been there for months. She twirled and galloped with the rest of the little girls. She pretended to be a princess, searching for a diamond. She curtseyed and bowed. All in her running shoes and her brother’s old fleece top on and with a delighted grin on her face.

I had tears in my eyes for the duration of the class. She couldn’t have enjoyed the class more if she’d tried. When she came home, she showed Scott her new moves and talked incessantly about ballet.

I was so taken with the teacher’s style that I’ve paid the fees for the entire term. My plan is to approach my boss when I get back to work and ask to finish 30 minutes early on a Monday so that I can get her to ballet on time. I’ll do whatever it takes, just to keep that smile on her face.