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“Ouch!” Emmy squawked as I brushed her hair up into a pony tail. I looped the pony tail holder around several times, and then I squawked when I saw an unruly clump of hair sticking out of the back of Emmy’s head. Emmy was not happy when I took the rubber band out of her hair to start over. I smoothed hair gel into her pony tail and pinned it up into the required bun. This time, there were no clumps.
Emmy’s long eyelashes blinked furiously as I tried to put a touch of mascara on them. I swept a little blush on her cheeks, she stepped into her tutu, and she was ready to go dance!
As usual, Mommy was more anxious than Ballerina. I was a bundle of nerves as we headed out the door…not so much about her performance, but more about the long wait she would have before she went on stage. I would be in the audience watching the show. What if she got nervous and wanted me? What if she needed to go potty? What if she lost her shoes?
While I was waiting for the show to start, I went out into the lobby to order the DVD. I didn’t want to be looking at a glowing digital screen during Emmy’s performance. I wanted to be fully present and accounted for. I’ve been guilty of staring at a screen full of pixels while trying to record my daughter’s special moments. This time, I wanted to see her dance with my own eyes.
Emmy is smack dab in the middle.
Emmy held my rapt attention the entire time. Her little chubby five year old legs tip-toed back and forth across the stage to Kermit singing “The Rainbow Connection.” At the end of their dance, I could see her face beaming as the audience clapped for all the little girls.
Another dance recital, done.
I’m writing about “4.) Write a blog post inspired by the word: Dance.” for Writer’s Workshop today.
