prima ballerina

It was a weekend of performances as Scout and her dance class took to the stage yesterday afternoon for their first recital. Not only did I paint Scout's nails for the occasion (it was a big deal), she also got to wear mascara and blush and lipgloss (an even bigger deal!). Although I've been known to kick it up on the dance floor after a couple cocktails at a wedding, I was never formally trained in dance as a child, so this scene was new to me. Yet it was everything I could have imagined as we entered the lobby of a monstrous Texas church--you know, the kind with stadium seating instead of pews and a movie screen on "stage"--where tens of tiny girls in all incarnations of dance apparel were running around like 2-5 year olds would in such a situation.

The performance itself, however, was a success. And I didn't even mind sitting through 18 other performances--they were only about 90 seconds each, so I'm sure that's what made them tolerable--to catch a glimpse of Scout onstage. When it was all said and done, our tiny dancer was greeted by quite the fan club as she exited the dim stage into the bright afternoon sunlight. Scout was showered with flowers, which may or may not have caused the younger sister to go berserk, running away with one bunch of roses in a hysterical rant. You decide.

[Note to future self: get a picture of your daughter all dolled up before she goes onstage. When I went to collect her in the holding room after all the performances were finished, I found a half-naked girl with mascara smeared under her eyes and hair half undone (it took me a long time to get that bun in her hair). It was all I could manage to crop her tennis shoes out of the photos and get her to look at me and smile without squinting.]

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