Yet year after year, I persist in this endeavor.
I guess I'm what one would deem a Christmas card masochist.
And, since according to
There was a teensy little complication called a time change, so when we got home from church it was 12:30, but Two little tummies thought it was 1:30, so they decided to be, um, somewhat uncooperative:
Notice a conspicuous absence from the family photo?
25% of the family was inside eating a turkey sandwich.
So much for loyalty.
Have I mentioned that my spectacular, beautiful, magnificent three-year-old is taking ballet?
Well she is.
More precisely, the class is called TBCM. An acronym, as you've undoubtably guessed, that stands for Tap, Ballet, and Creative Movement. The dance studio is staffed by current and former Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, and I'm pretty sure this is the reason my husband is suddenly volunteering to take her to class every Wednesday morning. And even some of his friends have offered as well.
Whatever, honey and honey's friends. Not a chance.
Anyway, these cheerleaders are very serious about the skills they are inferring to our youth. There is a dress code and a behavior code, both of which have to be adhered to at all times.
So far, my little ballerina is obeying the rules laid down by Miss Meghan, and appears to be having a blast. She'll even show you her plie' and pirouette if you ask.
The best part of this hour class for me is the Starbucks next door where I go with five of the other moms for fancy, high-calorie, overpriced caffeinated beverages and girl talk.
Today, however, I forewent the double latte, as we parents were invited to sit in and watch what the kids have learned so far this year. I'll just say this right now: Miss Meghan is more than just a pretty cheerleader. That woman has the patience of Job.
Of course, there were plenty of ooh's and aah's and aren't-they-cute's, because let's be honest, they were, but I'm pretty sure today was all about buttering us up to fork over the big bucks for the "recital" costume.
Yes, there apparently is a recital in our future.
I know it ain't gonna be cheap, but while gulping at the presumed expense for this event, I'm also simultaneously swallowing a little lump in my throat as I remember my own days of the first dance recital.
We were Glazed Cherries. Red satin tutus and all.
Aahhh, the memories.
So anyway, here are a few cute (albeit blurry) photos I took of my future little Glazed Cherry dynamo at Parent Observation Day:
Mommy was so proud.
Incidentally, our appointment with the professional photographer is next Wednesday.
Even I am willing to admit to my photographic failures and call in the experts.