Dance fever

Happy belated Mother's Day to all you moms out there!

The past couple days have been busy for me. Thursday and Friday I photographed a lot of little girls, sequins, leotards, and a truck load of pink. This was my first year as official photographer for Lyn's Academy of Dance. Each year Lyn puts on a fantastic finale for parents to come watch their kids display what they've learned. It's a lot of work for everyone involved. Mother's Day is not necessarily a relaxing day for my wife. She gets the responsibility of putting on the dance costumes, fixing hair, and applying a little bit of makeup to our 2 daughters. The youngest takes dance lessons as well, but she'll not have anything to do with the big stage. Or, as she eloquently puts it, "I only like the practices, I don't like the game."

So yesterday, hundreds of parents and grandparents showed up at the Lima Civic Center. Dads generally trailed behind their wives and daughters, carrying cameras and video recorders, looking like they were a little confused by the whole thing. I include myself in that group. Dads get demoted to becoming pack mules and valet parking attendants on days like that. That's the easy job though. Our girls don't even entertain the idea of requesting help from me with any of the aforementioned apparel issues. If I did, members of the audience would be whispering such things to each other as, "That's strange, the program doesn't mention that any circus clowns are in this part of the show."

But after all the rushing around, it's completely worth having the chance to observe my little girls on that huge stage. I couldn't help but think about how another year had gone by so quickly. I remember coming to the dance recital last Mother's Day. (It sticks out in my mind because our youngest daughter behaved incredibly poor that day. Sadly, we have several other various memories that are marked by the same issue. sigh.)

One thing about having all girls, they've made me a much more sentimental person. I don't know if I'd be quite so much had my wife loved me enough to give me a son. kidding, kidding. She maintains that it has something to do with me...genetics and chromosomes or something like that. Whatever. I admit that I tear up every time one of them prances around on that stage. I don't know about the technical aspect of their dancing, but it all looks perfect to me. That is, once I figure out which girl on that stage is my daughter. They all look very much alike up there. For a few seconds into my 6-year-old's routine, I discovered that I had been taping the wrong person. Yikes. I didn't feel too bad though. When talking to another father afterward, I said to him in a sort of sarcastic tone, "Your daughter was the best one up there." He replied, "Really? You could tell which one she was? Coz I had a hard time figuring it out."

Next year our girls will be 10, 7, and 5. Whether or not the 5 year old will participate in the stage show remains to be seen. Like I've said before, she's a piece of work. That reminds me, I'd like to write a public apology at this time to the woman who sat in front of us yesterday. My daughter did not mean to fling her plastic bracelet at you. At least I am fairly certain it was unintentional. It was very dark in there so I actually didn't see what transpired. Nevertheless, you have my apology. And thank you for returning it to us. A less kind person might have kept it or possibly thrown the 25 cent piece of jewelry back at her. I wouldn't have blamed you if you chose the latter.