I found a big, plastic, pink tub of squished dance costumes as I cleaned the storage room. As it was a "snow day," I asked Birdie and Daisy to sort them and toss anything they didn't want. They made two separate large keep piles and one tiny toss pile. Both declared that one day their daughters may want the costumes for dress-up. I didn't tell them that saving dance costumes pretty much guarantees you'll only have sons. I blended their keep piles into one stack and shoved it back into the tub. My daughters danced for most of their elementary school and middle school years. We followed the dance family drill--come home from school, do homework, eat dinner, go to dance, come home, do more homework and go to bed. If hanging on to old costumes is an accurate measuring stick, my daughters enjoyed their time spinning, leaping and skittering across dance floors. But I'm glad they knew when to quit. I would have kept paying for dance lessons and chauffered for another few years, but they moved on to other things. And so did I.
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