Finished with most of my day
Made it to all three of the godchildren’s recitals by the skin of my teeth.
The first one was the 6-year-old’s dance recital. There were children as young as three who were participating. The little ones are funny. They basically stumble through the dance moves, and everyone thinks it’s cute because they’re so young and shameless. I feel for the instructors because teaching a three-year-old a dance move is as effective as herding cats. Frustrating.
The second recital was Christopher’s (the 6-y-o’s) tumbling recital. Big day for Chris. This recital was the antithesis of the first one. It was for a different entity, and the difference was:
1) The Mayfair Academy’s event was in an auditorium, while the Hyde Park event was in a gymnasium
2) The Mayfair event had professional lighting and curtains and the whole shebang. The Hyde Park event did not.
There are more but, really . . . why bother? The point is that it varied dramatically.
The third recital, which I nearly broke my neck to attend after Chris’ tumbling event, was for Chris’ sister, who’s nearly 10. Haley’s in with the big kids, and their recital is the most fun. Those kids were so impressive because some of them are really very talented, and there was one segment where the teachers danced along with the kids (the kids are so big these days, who can tell the difference between a 12-y-o and an adult?). It was amazing.
The only problem was that I was seated in front of a problem family. It consisted of a rather meaty woman who was accompanied by her 5ish-y-o daughter.
The big broad was also a mother of one of the performers, and was all about “her baby.” Did everyone see her baby? Did we know that the one in front, second from the left, is her baby? Wasn’t her baby fantastic?
I didn’t want to tell her that her baby, if it’s the girl that I saw, is well on her way to being a gastric bypass surgery candidate if she doesn’t start leaving the Hostess on the shelf in the gas station where it belongs. But I digress . . .
I wished she would have paid better attention to her other baby — the five year old who couldn’t sit down if her life depended on it. She stood, she danced, she waved her hands in air (and yes, she waved em like she just don’t care), and essentially blocked my view each time she lifted from her seat. I wanted to grab her by the back of her pants and snatch her into her chair, and then I wanted to crack her mother in the head with my program for not watching her kid.
Eventually, since nobody else was administering any disciplined, I leaned up and said “excuse me little girl . . . could you please sit down? I can’t see around you.” I was proud of myself. That was much better than the “Sit your narrow ass down in that seat before I beat you” that I was tempted to say.
I was concerned that her mother would glare at me, but she actually reinforced my reprimand, which was refreshing.
I was supposed to go out afterward, but I was blown off by two of my friends. They’re both moms, and moms are always social wildcards. They’re never the most reliable party buddies. If that kid even looks like he/she has a cold, or if there’s a problem with said child’s father, it’s over. The night is ruined, and you’re flying solo.
So, I’m flying solo. Fortunately I don’t mind.
