I’m 30 years old, Mom, and he still tells me this.
Some things never, ever change and I am glad that they don’t sometimes…at least this time. Because other things change much, much too quickly.
Like the reality that she is 30 and they are 8 turning 9 (in SEVEN WEEKS) and 5.
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, known as West Allegheny Junior High School, I found myself drawing a lot of maps. At least it seemed that way because Mr. Campbell, the geography teacher, always assigned a drawing of each and every country we studied in our classroom tour of Europe. For me, map assignments were easy. I aced maps. I was so good, as a junior high aged kid, that I imagined that I would grow up to be a cartographer – a great cartographer. It would have been really cool, except for the math part. Dammit math!
But forty some years later, my map drawing skills come in handy as I assist my eight grader with his research project.
Just the map, Mom.
Best part was saying Phuket and snickering like a junior high boy.
That’s not how you say it, Mom!
Who doesn’t play slug bug…or punch buggy? Of course with a circus like mine, through the years, it had all the possibility of ruthlessness. Thank goodness for the official rules. Yes, The Official Rules of Slug Bug is a real, actual thing and thank you Baby Jesus for those rules because without them chaos, confusion, turmoil, hostility will reign freely.
Why does this feel like it’s happening anyway?
Did you notice that silver Slug Bug convertible, Mom?
No, we don’t follow the official rules so much these days because sometimes in the midst of real life nihilism, one must rebel.
That blue Slug Bug is so shiny, isn’t it son? Almost as nice as that black one I see in my rear view mirror?
Ah, geez Mom!
Yeah, that’s how we roll, my favorite son and I because sometimes you have to revolt against the status quo. Meanwhile, what do you think about that red and white, old school Slug Bug?
Today’s adventure took me to a holiday dance recital. When one of your grand babies is dancing on stage FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, you give up the chance to sleep in on a chilly, foggy Saturday morning. Okay I did hit the snooze button. Twice. But I made it and my favorite ballerina girl was thrilled!
And this is where the retired Dance Mom observes that dance recitals are universally the same…in EVERY way…good, bad, chaotic, crazy, rude, ridiculous, wonderful and pretty much every other adjective. The best way that they are the same is when you watch the one you are there for take the stage.
And as our ballerina took to the stage, the Mima-razzi was almost ready.
Which one is her?
She’s on the end, right there.
On the end right there?
And so I captured more than a dozen shots in quick succession of…someone else’s little ballerina with strawberry-blonde hair and porcelain skin. I realized that just as they finished and exited stage right.
She’s the one behind the tall ballerina.
I’m blaming my daughter and not my old lady eyes. But I am thanking her for this video.
You guys!!!! Isn’t she the sweetest thing??!!
I hope she will some day recall this once upon a December day and smile. I know that I will.
I’ve been doing a lot of art since I was five. ~ Fallon
You can not even imagine all that she has accomplished since she turned five…six days ago.