preparation for trench warfare

This is dance recital week. Or, as I like to call it, The Week When I’m Really Glad I’m Not Under the Scrutiny of Child Protective Services. I’m somewhat of a beast during this week, and the closer it gets to the actual recital, which is Saturday, the fouler I become. By recital day, I’m practically foaming at the mouth. Just ask the poor kiddo. I’m pretty sure that every year around this time, she has a real heart-to-heart with herself about whether dance is really worth it.

This year, the kiddo is in four dances: two with her regular class and two with the company. And the scheduling gods were not kind to me this year. Out of the first fourteen dances, the kiddo is in three of them. This means costume changes at the speed of light in a room full of dancers and moms and costumes and glitter and tap shoes and tutus and red lipstick and a set of risers and a grand piano.

But oh, is it ever worthwhile. Just you wait and see. I’ll post videos to prove it.