Spent yesterday, ALL DAY, at the recital hall while my 10 year old played diva for a day. Yes, this was exhausting for me. Doesn’t everybody know by now that I’M the diva? Will try my hand at posting picturesof the day, but just have to make a few observations about this kind of activity:
1. People, when your child can’t verbalize: “I have to go poo!” they shouldn’t be on a stage.
2. It’s not cute to watch little kids looking off into the wings.
3. It’s not cute to watch little girls lifting their tutus over their head.
4. It’s not cute to watch the dance instructor dance around like an idiot trying to motivate the little girls lifting the tutus over their head.
5. GET YOUR FRICKEN THREE YEAR OLD OFF THE STAGE, SHE’S ANNOYING ME!
Oh, I know people around me where finding these displays of obscene cuteness absolutely delightful. One lady behind me kept saying: “This is so funny, I have tears rolling down my cheeks!”
Well, I had tears too lady, but it wasn’t because I was having so much fun. It’s because I spent $22.00 per ticket, per show that I was attending. I was attending three shows, and my husband was accompanying me to two of them. Let’s do the math: 22.00 X 2 = 44. That’s $44 for the morning and afternoon show, that’s a total of $88.00. Then I came back for the evening show so that’s another $22.00. So what am I at now?…dare I add this up?…$110.00 for one day. And a good portion of it was spent writhing in pain as little girls stood stalk still while the dance instructor literally carried them to their next spot on the stage. This is not cute. I repeat this is not cute.
These shows are sold out within minutes of the tickets going on sale because all the parents stand at the Ticketmaster for hours before they go on sale. They camp out there like it’s Duran Duran coming to town. And then they buy tickets for everyone they know because surely grandma and grandpa will want to get on a plane and fly 8 hours from Newfoundland to see little Suzie dress up as a potted plant.
But because of this, Wayne (that’s my husband) and I couldn’t get seats together. So he’s sitting up in the nosebleeds, and I’m off on the side somewhere with only a partial view of the stage, because those were the only tickets left . At one point during a riveting performance of 38 four-year-olds twirling themselves into a big pile of white fringe (because I believe this group was supposed to be dressed up as popcorn. Yes, popcorn. I would not make this up.) I texted Wayne: “Shoot me please.” to which he replied: “I can’t. I only have one bullet and I may need it.”
If my husband, who loves loves loves little kids. Thinks they are fucken cute no matter what they do. My 6 year gets away with murder because he’s so effin cute! But if Wayne is looking to hurl himself off the balcony (because I had texted back demanding the last bullet lest he want me to serve him Kraft Dinner the rest of our married years,) then I know I’m not just being a cranky old bitch who can’t find the joy in anything. I know joy. I know it wasn’t on that stage wearing a hat that was supposed to look like a popcorn kernel, but to me, resembled something more along the lines of tapioca pudding.
But enough about that. Let’s have a looksy at my darling daughter on her special $110.00 day!
This is Zoe dressed for a ballet number. Notice my arms in this shot: they still look so toned and sculpted, I’m impressed. I competed in March and yet my physique still hasn’t turned to pot. Cool… and yeah me!