Ballerina Angel

MARISSA

“Beautiful,” I almost whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You look like a ballerina angel.”

“What’s a ballerina angel?” Annie giggled, scrunching up her nose.

I shrugged. “It’s the most beautiful angel of them all.”

She laughed again and then went back to studying her reflection in the mirror. “Do you think I need other shoes?”

On her feet were silver slippers with tiny pink bows at the back of her ankles. She held her left foot up to me so I could get a good look at it. “No, baby. I think those are gorgeous. They go perfectly with that dress.”

“That’s what I think, too.” Denise agreed. “You’re perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect. I think you’re ready to party.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But I also think you should get out of that dress for now, before it gets dirty.”

Annie tended to get dirt on her even when she slept, or that was what it felt like sometimes. I wasn’t one of those neurotic moms who refused to let their child get near dirt, I thought it was good for them to get