As I sit here drinking a cup of java, I’m thinking about tomorrow and how much I dread it.
You see, tomorrow is my daughter’s “in-studio dress” rehearsal day for her upcoming dance recital. That translates into my anxiety of putting my child in a dance costume with the “donut” dance bun, all by 10:30 a.m. The last time I attempted this get-up for picture day, it took me over an hour to get her ready.
You’ve seen my child. She’s this generation’s Shirley Temple. She’s got a curly mop on her head, and for the recital, I have to make her look like everyone else.
Truthfully, I’m not really in love with that idea. I like her individuality.
The recital requirement is to slick her hair back, and put her hair in a “donut” dance bun. Some brilliant person is kicking back on Paradise Island right now because she invented the “donut”. It’s this hair contraption that looks like a donut, and it comes in a variety of sizes and colors. It costs $8. It makes getting a dancer’s hair into a bun a little more stress free.
Or does it?
The good news is that I know I can do the task. I just dread it. And after tomorrow, I will still have to do the “donut” thing two more times before it’s all over for this year.
I attended a dance recital in Wilmington over the weekend, and the dancers could wear their hair anyway they wanted. Some girls wore it down. Some girls wore it up, and despite that, I still had trouble recognizing the little girl I came to see on stage until her Mom pointed her out. The only ones that really looked different on stage were the boys. I could tell them apart from the girl dancers immediately.
What’s it going to be like when every preschooler in my daughter’s recital has a donut on their head? It will be over 200 girls with donuts on their heads.
Will I even know which one is my child?
Hopefully, she will be the child pointing her toe to the left when everyone else is pointing their toe to the right.
But, if there are two children pointing their toe to right when everyone is pointing their toe to the left, I may be in trouble.
I don’t see that well from a distance anyway.
I hope I give flowers to the right child when it’s over. Or more importantly, I hope I take the right one home.
It will be a sea of girls with donuts on their heads in Downtown Raleigh, and at least 8 of the dancers will be wearing the same rainbow costume as my little one. I guess I have a 1 in 8 chance of making sure the right dancer goes home with us. That’s good odds, I guess.
The only donut I really like is the kind you eat. Are you with me on this?