“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 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.
