Worst Chorus Line, Ever!

I finally got to watch Izzy in ballet class this morning. Not without struggle, of course. Rob had to be at the bank for 2am to help oversee some changes to the website and that meant he got to come home to bed right before I shuffled the kids out the door. Alex brought a book (one of those Bones graphic novels which he finished in record time) and Izzy brought her attitude. As soon as we got to the studio she went into full prickly mode. She would not go into the class. She would not dance. She would not be happy that daddy stayed home. I finally coaxed her into the room only to have her sit on the sidelines and fix an icy glare on those who dared look at her. After the warm up one of her teachers, Miss Paige, claimed her hand and kept her by side for most of the routine.

The routine is something they are practicing for the end of year recital. It is a big deal. Costumes, big venue, tickets...the whole nine yards. The girls started up and I was caught between crying and laughing. It was so sweet and so funny all at once. The girls, when one (or rather several) weren't breaking the line to run out of the room were moving to stand next to their best friend of the moment, or leaving the room to go pee, or running up to the window to make silly faces at the parents, or just wandering off for no particular reason. It was quite a sight. They were sloppy, uncoordinated, unsynchronized and outright adorable. Luckily they have another 13 lessons before the big day. My heart goes out to Miss Paige and Miss Sidney. They are so good with the kids. It is like herding cats in that room. Moody and unruly cats. Izzy being one of their more difficult students. I hope they get paid well.

It was great to see Izzy. I have a feeling this may be my last visit to the studio before the end of the year. She prefers Rob taking her. Go figure. Alex was amused. He thought the kids were great. Though he was surprised at how chaotic it could be. Usually Izzy is the youngest in our homeschool groups so seeing a dozen three year olds behaving like three year olds was a shock to him. At one point Alex asked why one of the girls looked sick. Her face was all puffy and blotchy, tears in her eyes. She looked devastated. I just explained that in a room full of three year olds, there was bound to be some tears from time to time. Sure enough that little girl was right as rain minutes later.

Rob worked with a guy who would harass him (nicely) when we were expecting Alex. He once likened life with children to living with bipolar midgets. That thought crossed my mind half way through jazz. Seemed appropriate.