I became a goldfish. A devastating letdown, I mean a goldfish, really. Who ever in their right mind would have though a little girl would want to be a goldfish. As you can see the pain is still a little raw.
Anyhoo, fast forward a few years and here's little Lil ready for her first concert after weeks of practice. Lucky for her, she's going to be a Christmas angel. She's better fluttering her little arms around the house getting into the role. Meanwhile, I've been going through the three A4 pages of instructions and requirements for the big day. Did I mention they were three and four-year-olds? Lists of things needed – two [?] pairs of tights, hair pins, bobby pins [what's the difference??], slumber nets. Then there's the list of instructions for the day – arrive here at this time, sit here, do this, show your child where you're sitting, at this time kiss your child and say goodbye. We have to be there a few hours before to prepare and rehearse. Again, did I mention they were three and four-year-olds? They even have someone teach us how to do the exact buns required. Some how I think we're all going to be over it by the time the concert actually starts.
Despite all my cynicism and moaning, I know that I'll be bursting with pride as my little Christmas angel takes the stage, fluttering her wings and pointing her toes. Snapping every photo op available. I'll be taken back to that night I took the stage at the Mosman Town Hall as a goldfish and dreamt that it would be the first of many turns on the ballet stage. I will look at Lil-lil and know exactly how proud and excited she feels. I'll be excited to know that this is just the first of many times that I'll get to see her perform and be blown away by how much she's grown and how exquisite she is.